


They Shook Hands - Year 1

by Dethryl



Series: They Shook Hands [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Gen, Hogwarts First Year, Slytherin Harry, Slytherin Pride, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Up Slytherin!, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 97,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4967344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dethryl/pseuds/Dethryl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friendly handshake in Madam Malkin's leads to an alternate but realistic universe which is eerily like the canon, featuring a cast of first year Slytherins as you've never seen them: normal children. Join Harry Potter and his new friends as they discover their magical talents and help him to explore the world that has been kept from him these past ten years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Boy Named Malfoy

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

Harry Potter had seen more in the last half hour to stretch his credulity than he'd seen in his whole eleven years of life. He'd grown up as an unpleasant fixture in the house of his aunt and uncle, who'd done their best to keep him shut away from the world. To have a giant man show up, declare that Harry was a wizard, and whisk him away from everything he'd ever known had undercut the whole foundation of his existence. Now he was in a fantastic alley full of magic. He didn't want to get separated from the only person he knew, even if only by a day.

But the big man did still look a bit sick. The ride on the cart had been wild and exciting, if stomach-churning, and Harry didn't want his guide to be in a foul mood. He'd learned that Uncle Vernon could be dangerous in such a state, and he didn't see any reason why Hagrid would be any different.

"Er- Sure. I'll see you in a bit."

Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous. A squat witch was all smiles as she bustled up to him.

"Hogwarts, dear? Got the lot here. There's another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it up to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books, and Mother's up the street looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I think I'll bully father into getting me one, and I'll smuggle it in somehow. Have you got your own broom?"

The boy's arrogant manner reminded Harry a bit of Dudley, only his cousin didn't have a bored, drawling voice like this boy.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what the boy was on about.

"I do. Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. I'll need that new broom, though. I've got a Comet Two-Sixty right now, top of the line, but it's not a racing broom like Nimbus or even Cleansweep by any means. I don't see why first years aren't allowed brooms. It's just not fair."

Harry nodded, not really having his own opinion on the matter. Brooms? Quidditch? He'd just learned about magic a few hours ago. How was he supposed to keep up with all this?

"Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute. Hagrid hadn't said anything about houses.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they? But I know I'll be in Slytherin; all our family have been. Speaking of family, what's your surname?"

"Oh," Harry said, quite pleased that the boy had asked. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter. Ow!"

The exclamation came as Madam Malkin missed a stroke and stabbed him with the needle.

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry dear." She turned to her assistant. "Imagine that, Alice! Harry Potter himself coming in to my shop for his robes." She tittered again and continued her hemming.

The other boy had raised an eyebrow as he sized Harry up. "From all the stories they tell about you, I thought you'd be taller," he finally said. It was true, Harry was only a fraction taller than him.

"I'm not short!" Harry protested. He'd always been on the lower end of that measurement compared to the other boys in his class at school. Dudley had often called him some derogatory variant of "short" or "scrawny", and he hated it.

The boy smirked at him. "Never said you were. Father told me that you were my age, but I had no idea we'd meet before getting to school. I've been looking forward to meeting you. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

He held out his hand.

Harry wasn't used to people offering polite greetings. If his uncle and aunt ever had to introduce him, it was dismissively. His cousin had warned other children away from him. The simple gesture gave him a warm feeling of hope. Maybe things wouldn't be so bleak in the wizarding world.

Harry shook Draco Malfoy's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"I say, look at that man!" said Draco suddenly, nodding towards the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice cream cones to show he couldn't come in."

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to be able to talk about something at last. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said Draco, "I've heard about him. He's a servant of some kind, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper."

"Yes, exactly. The Headmaster at Hogwarts took him on after he got expelled. Now he lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

Hagrid had rescued Harry from the Dursleys. That was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. Draco's off-hand dismissal rankled him.

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.

Draco peered at him with an inquisitive expression. "You're Harry Potter, and he's a nobody. Why are you defending him?"

"He told me I was a wizard and took me away from the Muggles I was living with."

Draco's jaw dropped.

"The Muggles you were living with? Muggles?"

The way Draco said the word, it seemed distasteful. Harry agreed that the Dursleys were awful people, but he was curious why Draco thought that way too.

"Yes, Muggles."

"So that's why you don't play Quidditch or know what house you'll be in," said Draco with sudden epiphany. "You don't know anything about the wizarding world."

Harry could only shake his head. He was still very angry about how the Dursleys had kept the truth about his parents from him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Draco said softly. "I think that's a right crime, depriving a true-born wizard of his heritage."

"Thank you," said Harry. He didn't really know what else to say. He was grateful that the boy seemed sympathetic.

"Listen, what I said about that Hagrid fellow," Draco began, "I was only telling you the truth. I hope you're not going to hate me for telling you the truth."

Shame washed over Harry. Here this boy was trying to be friendly, and Harry was being right beastly about it all. "No, I don't hate you, but I think you should give Hagrid a chance. He's been very nice to me."

"You need proper friends, though," Draco decided. "Boys your own age. Shall we be friends, Harry?"

Harry wanted friends. In his whole life, no one had ever wanted to be Harry's friend. He had wanted to play with other boys, but everyone had always been too afraid of Dudley. His cousin wasn't here, could never come here, and Harry was very tired of feeling alone, like it was him against an unfriendly world.

"I'd like that," he said sincerely.

"Brilliant!" Draco said enthusiastically. "After we have our robes all finished, we can go around and look at the new Nimbus Two Thousand. I'm going to see if I can convince Father to get me one as a late birthday present."

"I think I'm supposed to stay with Hagrid," Harry said reluctantly. He really wanted to spend time with his new friend. Hopefully Hagrid could be persuaded to deviate from whatever schedule he was on.

Draco waved such concerns away. "Hagrid works at the school, right? Father is on the board of school governors. I'm sure everything will be all right."

Harry marvelled at how nothing seemed to bother Draco. He found himself being caught up in the blond boy's enthusiasm. Brooms? Flying? How fantastic and exciting it all seemed.

Madam Malkin and her assistant, Alice, had just finished up with the last of their robes when a distinguished-looking gentleman stepped into the shop. He had the same pale skin and pointed face as Draco, even the same cold, grey eyes. His robes were subtle, yet superbly made. He wore a fur hat on his head and carried a snake-headed silver cane in his left hand.

"Father!" Draco said with spirit. "I want you to meet Harry Potter!"

Draco's father peered at him intently, and Harry felt the man's eyes linger on the scar on his forehead. It may have been his imagination, but Mr. Malfoy's hand tightened on the handle of his cane.

"I always imagined you would be taller," he said in a pleasant voice, echoing his son's comment. He reached out his hand. "Lucius Malfoy, Mister Potter. How do you do?"

Harry shook hands. "How do you do, sir?"

"Father, can Harry come around to the shops with us? I've got a lot to tell him all about Hogwarts."

Mr. Malfoy smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. "I don't see why that would be a problem."

"I'm here with Hagrid, Mister Malfoy. He's sort of in charge of me right now."

"Hagrid?" Mr. Malfoy asked incredulously. "Hagrid isn't qualified to be in charge of flobberworms. If he's in charge of you, where is he?"

"He was here just a minute ago. He had ice cream cones, but they were melting. Maybe he went to get cleaned up?"

"Well, I do think I saw him stepping into the Leaky Cauldron a few minutes ago. I would wager he'll be awhile rejoining us. Impossible man. He can't go a day without getting roaring drunk. No self-control."

Harry didn't want to challenge the word of such an important man, so he said nothing. He chewed his lip, wishing he could say something in Hagrid's defence, but nothing was coming to mind.

Draco was tugging him towards Quality Quidditch Supplies. "C'mon, let's go look!"

"I have to get my books," Harry protested feebly.

"Father?"

Mr. Malfoy smiled again, indulgent of his son's eagerness. "I'll take care of it, Harry. May I call you Harry?"

He nodded.

"You boys run off and look at brooms. I'll pick up another set of books and meet you both at Ollivanders in thirty minutes. Not one second later, understand Draco?"

"Yes, Father," Draco said, already looking towards the shop.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry as he followed his new friend towards the broom shop.

"And if you see your brother, tell him to meet us there," Mr. Malfoy called after them.

"Your dad's really nice."

"He's strict about the rules, but there's not that many of them. Otherwise he's very easy-going. Just don't make an enemy out of him. He's got a brutal sarcastic streak."

They looked at the Nimbus 2000 for quite awhile, and Draco explained to him a lot about Hogwarts.

"There's four houses, and the best is Slytherin. Anyone who wants to succeed is in Slytherin. It's the house for the ambitious, the clever, and the sneaky. If you're really smart then you belong in Ravenclaw. My brother Elan says they're a bunch of bookworms. If you like to work hard then you'll be in Hufflepuff, so they say, but Elan says they're a bunch of duffers. They have to work hard because they don't really fit anywhere else. Then if you've got more courage than common sense, you're in Gryffindor. They don't understand that sometimes discretion is the better part of valour."

"What's that mean?"

"Sometimes you should run away because otherwise you might get hurt," Draco said with a grin.

Harry pondered that philosophy and found that it made a lot of sense. Certainly running away from Dudley was the best policy. "So Slytherin is the best house?"

"That's right. Unfortunately people don't think kindly of Slytherin sometimes."

"Why's that?"

"Well one of the key traits is ambition, see? There's all kinds of ambition, and one of those is the desire for power. That means that more Dark wizards and witches have come from Slytherin House than any other, and it's given us a bad reputation. When a Dark wizard comes from any other house it's just brushed off as a one-time thing, but with Slytherin it's treated as the rule."

"That doesn't seem very fair," Harry commented. "To judge a whole house by the example of a few people?"

Draco turned to Harry and looked at him for a few seconds. Finally, he said, "You understand. No, it's not fair. I think it all comes from them being jealous. Slytherin really is the best. They've got a terrific Quidditch team and often take the cup. They're also strong contenders for the House Cup every year."

"What's the House Cup?"

"It's a way of keeping score between the houses. Most points wins. Slytherin and Ravenclaw have dominated for the past thirty years."

Harry was feeling very happy. It was only his first day in an exciting new world, and he'd already made a friend his own age. Draco wasn't acting at all like the people in the Leaky Cauldron had and seemed to genuinely like him. It was a new experience for Harry, and he hoped it would last.

Quidditch also sounded very interesting, and Harry bought a copy of a book called Quidditch Through The Ages so he could read all about it. 

"You're going to love riding a broom. It's the best sensation in the world. First years aren't allowed to bring one to school, but next summer, you just _have_ to get one if we're going to play Quidditch over at my house. We've got a full pitch out back and no nosy neighbors."

They walked out of Quality Quidditch Supplies and headed towards the wand maker's shop.

"I've missed out on so much," Harry said wistfully. "I wish I could have grown up in the wizarding world."

"What was it like?" Draco asked curiously. "Living with Muggles, I mean. Father says they're violent savages. I can't imagine what it must have been like to be the only one in the house who could do magic."

"I hate living there," Harry replied instantly. "I hate them. They certainly hate me. I get blamed for everything."

"Everything?"

"Anything that goes wrong is my fault. Anything they can't explain rationally means I get yelled at, and if I ever dare to suggest that it was like magic or something similar, you'd think I'd insulted the queen."

"Sounds like you were doing accidental magic. It happens a lot when we're very young."

"Uncle Vernon seems to think I'm some sort of devil. He's always calling me a freak or saying I'm abnormal."

"I think he's the one who's abnormal."

"Aunt Petunia is a horrible woman. Her voice sounds like a dozen cats fighting over a mouse. She's always giving me chores to do. My cousin Dudley never has to do any work, the lazy porker."

"Is he fat?"

"Huge. Monstrous, even. He makes my life miserable. He enjoys bashing me and encourages all his friends to join in. I think he gets it from Uncle Vernon."

"Did they, did they hit you?" Draco's words were uncertain, as though he didn't know how to ask his questions. Harry wondered if wizards ever hit their children.

"Sometimes. If I did any of that accidental magic, he'd smack me a few times and I'd get locked in my cupboard."

"Your what?"

"My cupboard. Under the stairs. That's where I lived."

"You didn't have your own room?"

Harry laughed bitterly. "No, they wanted me out of sight as much as possible. I spent more hours than I can count in the cupboard. It wasn't so bad. At least I had a lightbulb. Most of the time anyway. If it burned out, I'd have to sneak around and change it, but I got pretty good at it."

"What's a lightbulb?"

"It's-" Harry was momentarily perplexed. "It's like a small lantern."

"So you weren't in the dark. That's something."

"A very little something. If I was absolutely silent while I being punished, sometimes I'd get dinner."

Harry's voice was dead, with no emotion whatsoever. He might as well have been reading from the encyclopaedia. He'd never told anyone how the Dursleys had treated him, but Draco was his friend, and Harry knew friends talked to each other.

"What horrible, horrible people," Draco said. "My family doesn't like Muggles, Harry. Never has. Now I've got another reason. How can anyone treat a boy like that?"

Harry had no answer, but fortunately he didn't have to give one, for they had arrived at Ollivanders. The name of the shop was written in peeling gold letters over the door. 'Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.'. Even without the sign, they would have known this place; a single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the front window telling even the illiterate the nature of the business.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. The shop was narrow and shabby, tiny, and filled with shelves. Thousands of narrow boxes filled those shelves, reaching all the way up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of Harry's neck prickled. The very dust in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Draco, there you are!"

A blonde woman, tall and slim, wearing very nice dark blue robes knelt down and hugged Draco. She was smiling broadly, and Harry could see that she had very pretty teeth.

"Mum!" Draco cried, clearly scandalized about being hugged in front of his new friend.

"Oh don't be silly, Draco. I'm your mother. I'm sure he understands."

"Umm, Mum? This is Harry Potter."

Draco's mother turned a most unflattering shade of red. "Oh by the stars," she muttered. "I've fumbled it now."

Then she composed herself and smiled, the flush fading from her cheeks, and she offered Harry her hand. "Narcissa Malfoy. It's a pleasure, Harry."

Harry shook hands. He'd never been properly introduced to so many people before. "How do you do, ma'am?"

"Good afternoon, Harry Potter," said a soft voice, startling him. "I rather suspected I'd be seeing you here soon."

An old man was standing behind the counter, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"You have your mother's eyes," he said. "It seems only yesterday that she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander stepped around the counter. Harry hadn't yet seen him blink those creepy silver eyes.

"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it. It's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

The wand maker had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

Harry shivered. He had no idea what to say. How did one respond to someone who sold the weapon that killed one's parents?

Ollivander shook his head, turning to Draco. "Young Mister Malfoy, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Your mother has told me a great deal about you."

"I'm sure she has," Draco said wryly.

"Well then, let's get you two lads fitted. Mister Malfoy, which is your wand arm?"

"Left."

"Mister Potter?"

"I'm right-handed, sir."

Mr. Ollivander snapped his fingers, and two measuring tapes hurried over and began taking all sorts of measurements on the two boys. They measured from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round the head.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We customarily use unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are quite the same, and of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

As he talked, Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the two tapes crumpled to the floor. "Right then, Mister Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and, feeling foolish, waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-"

Harry tried, but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back.

"Mister Malfoy, give this one a wave."

Draco did so, and a jug of water on the counter exploded. Water spilled everywhere. Mr. Ollivander shook his head. "No, apparently not." He handed over another. "Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. No? Try this one."

Draco took the wand and raised it above his head. He swished it down and a stream of green and silver sparks filled the air around him.

"Oh! How pretty!" said Mrs. Malfoy. "Slytherin colours. Do you see that, Mister Ollivander?"

Mr. Ollivander was nodding to himself as he put the wand away and wrapped it in brown paper, very satisfied. "Yes, hawthorn and unicorn hair. Ten inches precisely. Reasonably springy. A wand very suited to you, I believe. Now, Mister Potter. Let's see if we can't find yours."

Harry tried and tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the counter. Harry would have felt anxious about his lack of success, but the more wands the old man pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"A tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere."

They went through another half dozen boxes before the wandmaker pulled a box out from near the back.

"I wonder, now. Yes, why not? Unusual combination, holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air, and a stream of gold and silver sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light onto the walls. Draco whooped and clapped for his friend while Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..."

He put Harry's wand back in its box and began wrapping it up, still muttering, "Curious... curious..."

"Excuse me sir, but what's curious?" Harry asked, not sure he really wanted to know.

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mister Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather -- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother. . . why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed hard.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. I think we must expect great things from you, Mister Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered again, though the day was not particularly cold. He was still coming to terms with the truth of his parents' death. It had been bad enough to be lied to for ten years, wrongly believing they had died in a car crash, that they had been drunk. It was far worse to learn the truth. Voldemort had murdered them. It was too much to comprehend.

Draco put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's all right, Harry. He's dead now. He can't hurt you."

Harry looked at his friend, seeing the sympathy in his face. He half-smiled, letting Draco know that he appreciated the support.

"Harry!" came Hagrid's voice booming through the wand shop. The ice cream was nowhere to be seen. "Why did yeh run off like that?"

"I didn't run off!" Harry protested. "I was with my new friend, Draco."

"Draco?" Hagrid's face was a storm cloud.

"Malfoy," Draco drawled in an insulting tone, "Draco Malfoy. Son of Lucius by Narcissa."

"Hagrid, there is no call for acting like this," Mrs. Malfoy said, appearing very put out. Her nose had risen slightly into the air, and was wrinkled slightly, as though she found something distasteful.

"C'mon, Harry, we're going." Hagrid put a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Hagrid, what's wrong?" Harry was very confused. Hagrid was not acting at all like the nice person he'd been before. He seemed angry, just like Uncle Vernon. Harry felt his nerves begin to ratchet up.

"The boy can't leave without his books, Hagrid," said Mr. Malfoy as he closed the door behind him. "Do pipe down, I could hear you clear down the lane."

"Mister Malfoy." Hagrid's voice was anything but pleasant, a stark contrast to Draco's father.

"It's good to see that you haven't lost _all_ of your manners, Hagrid. There's no problem here at all."

"Harry's with me. I'm in charge of him." Hagrid was half-growling his words.

"The boy is perfectly all right with me," Mr. Malfoy said urbanely.

"Professor Dumbledore put him in my hands!"

Mr. Malfoy clucked his tongue. "Hagrid, you do recall that I am on the board of governors? I would never let anything happen to Harry Potter, or any other student. I assure you, I have everything well in hand."

"One governor does not overrule the Headmaster," Hagrid practically snarled.

"Gentles, please vacate my shop," Mr. Ollivander said firmly. He held his own wand in his hand now. "Mister Potter, seven Galleons please. Mister Malfoy, the same."

Harry dug out his money and paid for his wand. Draco's mother slid seven gold coins across the counter as well.

They all piled out into the street, Mrs. Malfoy standing next to her husband, Draco standing near Harry. Hagrid pulled Harry closer to him, away from his friend. Harry could smell spilled alcohol.

"We still got lots ter buy an' can best do it w'out interference from the likes o' you." Hagrid's face was a little red, Harry could see in the daylight.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't cross me, Hagrid. You had better believe that I will be taking this issue up with the board. You'll have to be lucky in the extreme to keep your job."

He handed Harry a bag filled with books. "There you are, Harry."

"Thank you, sir." Harry reached into his pocket for some money.

"No, no, consider them a birthday present."

Harry swallowed. Charity, from a man he'd barely met. Did he look that ragged? "Sir, I can't. I just wouldn't feel right about it. Please take the money."

Mr. Malfoy studied Harry's face for a moment. "Very well, Harry, if that's how you feel. It came to five Galleons and some small change. Just give me the Galleons. I do believe that the rest was about the cost of your Defence Against the Dark Arts text, which I _will_ insist on gifting you with."

Harry handed over the coins. "Thank you again, Mister Malfoy. It was nice to meet you."

"The pleasure was all mine, Harry," he said, shaking hands. "Do take care. I hope to see you again."

Mrs. Malfoy knelt down and kissed him on both cheeks. "Goodbye, dear. Study hard. You're going to be a great wizard."

Harry felt himself blushing to his roots. "Ma'am," was all he could say.

"Bye Harry!" said Draco, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "I'll save you a seat on the train!"

"Thanks, Draco. I'll see you then."

Hagrid had said nothing during this exchange, but his face was furious. He kept his eye on the Malfoy family as he stepped away, keeping himself between them and Harry. He kept up a brisk pace, forcing Harry to practically run to keep up. People were clearing out of his path as he marched directly for the Apothecary.

"I don't know what yeh was thinkin', Harry, goin' off like that, and with Lucius Malfoy, of all people!"

Harry felt anger rising up from inside him. "What's so wrong with him? He seemed like a perfectly nice man. He went and bought my books for me so that Draco and I could get to know each other. I made a friend today, Hagrid, and I've never had a friend before."

"Malfoys are trouble. Old purebloods and snobby as the devil about it. Yer better off staying away from 'em."

"They were being perfectly civil to me," Harry ground out between clenched teeth. "Then you came along and ruined everything. You didn't even give them a chance. You just barged in and started making assumptions."

Hagrid's face fell.

"Maybe yeh'll just have to see for yourself. C'mon, we still got some things ter buy."

Hagrid kept a close eye on Harry as he asked the clerk for a supply of basic potion ingredients. Harry didn't particularly want to be around the big man in his current mood, so he busied himself investigating the shop.

From the Apothecary they went to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, where they picked up a set of scales and a collapsible brass telescope. In Potage's Cauldron Shop, he bought a size 2 in pewter. When there was nothing left to buy, they returned to the brick wall that led out of Diagon Alley. The large man reached into his shaggy overcoat and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to Harry.

"That 'ere's yer ticket fer the Hogwarts Express. It leaves at 'leven o'clock from King's Cross station on the first o' September. All the information is on the ticket. Now let's get yeh a train back home."

Harry didn't speak at all as they walked back through the empty pub, down the road, on the Underground, up an escalator, and into London Bridge station. He only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Yer train leaves in ten minutes. Best yeh be on it."

Hagrid looked like he wanted to say something else, but did not. Harry boarded the train and watched Hagrid until he was out of sight.


	2. Owl Post

The month of August was perhaps the most bearable time Harry had ever had at Number Four, Privet Drive. Dudley was so terrified after having crossed Hagrid that he wouldn't even stay in the same room as Harry. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had taken to ignoring him entirely, not even giving him any chores. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after awhile.

His new friend Draco Malfoy was constantly on his mind. He'd been so excited about Hogwarts and Quidditch that Harry could not help but be infected with his enthusiasm. For the first time, Harry was not just concerned with surviving day to day. He was actually looking forward to something, to seeing his friend again. Draco was a friend that the Dursleys didn't know about. It was something Harry had for himself.

Without any chores to do, Harry kept to his room and tried to stay out of the Dursleys' notice. He passed the time eagerly reading his school books. He wanted to do well at school, wanted to do his Mum and Dad proud. The books were very interesting, especially A History of Magic. He lay on his bed reading all day and late into the night. Every night before he went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of parchment he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.

He was deeply absorbed in his Herbology text one afternoon when a frantic tapping at the window startled him from his reading. Peering outside he could see an owl hovering there. He hurried over and opened the window, stepping back to let the messenger inside. Hagrid had used an owl to send Professor Dumbledore a letter and had told him that wizards used owls to deliver their post. Who could be writing to him?

The eagle owl circled the room and then landed on Harry's shoulder. He grunted with the sudden weight. The bird stuck out its leg, permitting Harry to untie the letter. With a quick hop, the owl perched on the bed frame and began to groom itself.

Harry opened up the letter.

 

Dear Harry,

It was very nice to meet you the other day. Father and Mother send their greetings, and they hope to see you again on the train platform. 

We will definitely have lots of fun once we get to school. I can't wait to introduce you to some of my other friends. First off is Theo. He's smart, but sometimes he has an attitude about it. He's easy enough to get along with if you ignore some of his more peevish behaviour. I do have to tolerate him, because his father was one of my tutors. Mr. Nott also tutored three girls: Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and Tracy Davis. Pansy and Theo don't really get along, so don't let them scare you. Millie's not really girly. She's more of what Mother calls a tomboy. Pansy and Tracy are the pretty ones. They're all right, as far as girls go. 

I wasn't sure if you'd got a post owl, so I told Arlette to wait for a return letter. If you could give her some toast leftover from tea, she'd be grateful. If you didn't get an owl, you should get one. They're dead useful.

Your friend,

Draco Malfoy

P.S.: Those Muggles haven't been bothering you, right?   
  
---  
  
 

Harry looked up at the owl. She had finished preening and was looking at him with her head slightly cocked to one side. She hooted gently at him. She was hungry.

"C'mon downstairs with me, girl," he said, holding one arm out. When Arlette had perched on his forearm, he went back downstairs and into the kitchen.

Feeling a mite peckish himself, he put two slices of bread in the toaster. While he waited for them to toast, he wrote his return letter.

 

Dear Draco,

The Muggles have been ignoring me, which is a blessing. I can't wait to get out of here. 

That day in Diagon Alley was the best ever. I've never had so much fun. I can't wait to try flying. Quidditch sounds absolutely amazing. I'm sure this book I got doesn't even do it justice.

I'm looking forward to meeting your friends. Thanks for telling Arlette to stick around. I wouldn't have been able to reply without her. Does Eeylop's take postal orders?

Your friend,

Harry  
  
---  
  
 

It would do. Harry didn't know exactly how one should go about writing a letter to a friend. He'd never had friends before. He folded the paper up and looked for Arlette.

She was already perched on the toaster, nibbling at the toast. She held a piece down with her talons and tore at it with her beak. Arlette was a beautiful bird, Harry could see. A very hungry, beautiful bird.

A piercing shriek nearly made Harry jump out of his skin. His ears ringing, he turned and saw Aunt Petunia standing in the doorway. She had one hand pointing at the toaster.

"What is that?" she screeched.

Arlette calmly looked at Aunt Petunia.

Hoot!

"Out!" she shrieked.

Harry picked up his letter and the remaining toast. Arlette lighted on his shoulder as he pushed past Aunt Petunia on his way upstairs.

"Vernon!" she yelled. Clearly she had issues with owls being in the house.

Harry shut out their noise as he shut his door. He handed the remaining toast over to Draco's owl and tied the letter onto her leg.

"Thanks for visiting," he said, not sure how one spoke to a post owl. "It was fun."

Arlette hooted at him, nipped his ear, and flapped her wings, soaring out through the open window and off into the sky.

Harry watched her go, wishing she could carry him away as easily. He hated it here on Privet Drive. There was seldom any peace; this recent stretch was the longest in his memory. He had to keep two eyes open for danger at all times if he wanted to avoid a thumping.

"Boy! What is this about birds in the house?"

Uncle Vernon was in the doorway, and he looked angry. Harry's pleasure at hearing from Draco dissolved into sudden fear. He was trapped in the room.

Harry wiped his clammy hands on his trousers and considered his options. Unless he wanted to go out the first floor window and jump down to the ground, he likely wouldn't be able to get away. He would have to talk very quickly.

"It was an owl, sir. It brought me a letter."

The big man's face grew guarded. "Owl, did you say?"

Harry hoped it wasn't a mistake to mention owls. "Yes."

"You keep those things away from this house. Do you understand? No owls."

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon. I can't stop people from sending them."

"Do whatever you have to do, just get them away as quick as you can. I do not want the neighbors to ask any more questions. Bad enough we had to deal with all the gossip when your ruddy school letters came."

"I'll do my best, sir."

"You'd better," Vernon said pointing a thick finger at Harry. "I don't want any sort of funny business before you go."

"No, sir."

Uncle Vernon closed the door behind him, and Harry heard his heavy footsteps going downstairs.

Harry picked up his textbook again and glanced wistfully at the parchment pinned to the wall.

_Three more weeks._

* * *

Arlette brought another letter two nights later.

Harry had been leaving the window open for when she came back, but also to get some relief from the heat. While his room was stifling and uncomfortable, at least he was out of the Dursleys' sight. They hadn't said anything to him since his last letter, and he didn't want to give them any reasons to yell again.

The owl landed on the bedframe and stuck out her leg. She hooted at Harry and began bouncing her head up and down when he didn't move fast enough.

Harry laughed at the ridiculous sight. "All right. I'm coming. Silly bird." He untied the letter and scratched her head. Arlette nuzzled against his hand. "You like that, girl? If you stay here, I'll go make some toast."

Arlette shook her head fiercely. Harry wondered if she actually understood him or if it was a reaction to all the head scratchings.

He opened the letter.

 

Dear Harry,

Summer hols still going good, I hope. I've been out on the Quidditch pitch every day trying to get as much in flying time as I can before the train. Theo comes over a couple of times per week to give me a bit of challenge. Sometimes we throw the Quaffle around, and other times we just race. He's not bad. Nothing on me, of course, but still quite fine in his own right. If only he weren't so smug when he manages to win.

There are a couple of other boys whom I am acquainted with named Crabbe and Goyle. Father has business dealings with their fathers, and they were invited to associate with me. Their families aren't as important as mine, so they pretty much do what I tell them. They're fairly stupid, but they know their place.

If those Muggles get too threatening, you can defend yourself now. We're not supposed to do magic outside of school, but officially you don't know that yet. They don't tell you until after first year is over and you start the holiday, so if you want to hex them and get away with it, now's the time. There's a few good ones in chapter twenty of your Dark Forces book.

Your friend,

Draco

 

Dear Draco,

I wish I could get out and fly. The Muggles haven't even been giving me any chores to do lately, so I've been staying in my room a lot. It seems to make them happier when they don't see me. It would also make them happy if Arlette only came at night. They don't want the neighbors to see. Thanks.

Theo sounds like a very interesting fellow. I am uncertain about Crabbe and Goyle.

Thanks for telling me about that rule. I might just take advantage of it if they push me too hard. Most of the time I can get away, but being able to defend myself is a very nice feeling.

Your friend,

Harry  
  
---  
  
 

Harry enjoyed having a friend he could write to. He realized that the wizarding world would probably be a much less scary place if he had a friend to show him around. He was determined not to let his first chance at friendship slip away.

He always wrote back immediately. As much as he enjoyed scratching Arlette or stroking her feathers, he didn't want Uncle Vernon to catch her in the house. Harry only had a few minutes of company while he penned his letters. Then he tied it to her leg, and off she went again, leaving Harry alone, lonely, and impatient.

The time passed so very slowly, even if he were reading his school books. Though he was counting down the days on a piece of parchment and trying to be patient in the long-term, the letters from Draco were the only thing positive in his day to day, and Harry found himself looking frequently out the window after sunset in the hope of seeing Arlette returning. Draco didn't write every day, and Harry certainly didn't expect him to. Still, the nights when Arlette didn't come, Harry went to bed quite late, having waited up, and tried not to feel sad.

* * *

Dear Harry,

No wizard should ever have to worry about being threatened by Muggles. There are lots of spells we developed to keep ourselves safe. Mr. Nott told us all about Flame-Freezing Charms just a few weeks ago. It's supposed to make it feel like a warm bath, but I'd just as soon never have to find out.

Montrose won again last night. They beat Holyhead by seventy points. They're still looking good for that perfect season. The only team left who can really challenge them is Portree. Ellison had an amazing night. He scored a dozen times! If he can keep it up, he'll be setting records soon.

I wish we were able to go to the Cup Final, but we'll be in school. Father took me last year. Elan wasn't able to go because of school, so I got to spend the day just the two of us. Father is a very important wizard, so we got to meet the team afterward. I have a Quaffle signed by them all and a picture together with them.

Write back soon!

Your friend,

Draco

 

Dear Draco,

I can't wait to see my first Quidditch match. I'm so very excited about just getting out of this place. I think it's an awful tease to have a few hours to wander starry-eyed around Diagon Alley and then be stuck back here for a whole month. Sometimes I worry that this is all some cruel trick and I really will be stuck going to Stonewall.

You friend,

Harry

 

Dear Harry,

I wish I could think of a good way for you to escape that place. Soon enough, mate. You've got years of catching up to do, and I mean to see that you do it properly. I really wish there was a way to smuggle brooms into the school. We'd have a grand old time tearing around the skies.

Your friend,

Draco

 

Dear Draco,

I've been counting down the days. Only a few more to go.

Your friend,

Harry

 

Dear Harry, 

It's almost here. I haven't been sleeping soundly the past few nights, because I'm so excited. I've been waiting to go to Hogwarts for years. It's finally happening.

I've got to go fly and let off some of this energy. I'll see you at the station.

Your friend,

Draco  
  
---  
  
 

On the last day of August, he thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on the telly. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran out of the room.

"Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"My train to school leaves from King's Cross tomorrow at eleven o'clock."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Will you give me a lift? Or at least give me fare for the train there?"

Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

He turned to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a w-wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Harry's head whipped back around as he glared at Uncle Vernon.

_What would you know about it?_

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"Planning on visiting me, are you?" said Harry, his voice turning vaguely insulting.

"Watch your tongue, boy, or you'll be walking to the ruddy station."

"Good night," Harry said, having gotten his answer. He turned back and walked up the stairs to his room.

_Better make sure I'm all packed._

That task took very little time. All of Harry's school supplies fit easily into the shabby trunk the Dursleys had given him. Most of his books fit in the cauldron, so that saved a lot of space. His robes and uniforms didn't take up much room at all, and Harry didn't own anything else to even take, aside from his hand-me-downs from Dudley. He packed it all anyway. The Dursleys hadn't given him much, but Harry wasn't about to leave any of it behind. Who knew if it would still be there when he came back for the summer?

The thought of returning to Privet Drive was nearly as revolting as that of leaving was delightful.

"What goes up must come down, but a lot can change in a year," he said, trying not to think too negatively. "Maybe I can just stay at school year-round."

With that incredibly pleasant notion, Harry put on his pyjamas and got in to bed, though he was convinced that he was too excited to sleep. Soon enough, he was yawning. He closed his eyes and drifted off, his imagination full of the wonderous things that Draco had told him about Hogwarts.


	3. Making New Friends

Harry was so excited about going off to school that he woke up at five o'clock in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep. The big day was finally here.

The Dursleys reluctantly allowed him to be in the car and dropped him off at King's Cross station at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk out onto the curb and got back into the car without saying a word. Harry pulled a cart over and was about to ask for help when the Dursleys drove off, giving him a face full of exhaust.

Choking and coughing, Harry somehow muscled his trunk onto the cart and wheeled it inside. He pulled out his ticket to see what platform he was leaving from and stared at it in amazement.

It read Platform 9 & ¾. Was this some kind of test? Was it a foolish joke? Seeing no alternative, he pushed his cart down to where platforms nine and ten were and stared up at the big plastic numbers. There was only a 9 and a 10.

A passing guard was no help. Harry tried not to panic as the last ten minutes ticked away. He was stranded in the middle of a train station with a trunk he could hardly lift. His pockets were full of wizard money. He had no idea what to do.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. Should he get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten?

Worry gnawed at him. Why did he have to be here alone? Why couldn't someone have helped him out on this critical day? Hagrid had said all the information was on his ticket. It told him the date, the time, the platform number, and the station, but it didn't say anything about actually finding the platform.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind him, and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"-packed with Muggles, of course-"

Harry's head snapped around sharply. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him, and they had an _owl_.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped, and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her mother's hand. "Mum, can't I go too?"

"Next year, Ginny, next year. All right, Percy, you first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it -- but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, your turn," the plump woman said.

"He's not Fred, I am!" protested one of the twins.

The other looked very hurt and cast his mother a reproachful glance. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

George lined up his cart with the divider and flashed her a grin. "Only joshing. I am Fred really," he said, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone -- but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly towards the barrier - he was almost there - and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it. Simply watching wasn't going to help him figure out the trick.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes. The thing is," said Harry hesitantly, "the thing is, I don't know how to-"

"How to get onto the platform?" she asked kindly, and Harry nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier there. Don't stop and don't worry about crashing into it, otherwise you will. Best to do it at a bit of a run, if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Thank you," he said, very nervous now.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier, and then he'd be in trouble. Leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run. The barrier was coming nearer and nearer. He wouldn't be able to stop. The cart had too much momentum built up. He was a metre away. He closed his eyes, ready for the crash.

It didn't come. He kept on running and opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He'd made it.

The platform was the most chaotic place Harry had ever seen, and that included fire drills at school. Animals, children, and parents milled together. He pushed his cart down the platform in search of Draco, the only person he knew. It seemed impossible that he should find one person in the mob.

He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd. The twins from that nice family were standing with him.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of the box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

"Harry!" shouted a familiar voice.

Harry turned round and saw Draco rushing his way. Then he was there, and Harry thought his friend might shake his arm off.

"You made it!" he said breathlessly. "I was starting to worry."

"I couldn't figure out how to get onto the platform," Harry replied. "I guess Hagrid forgot to tell me."

Draco's upper lip curled back in a sneer, but he didn't say anything nasty. "I would have said something myself, if I'd thought of it. Terribly sorry. So how'd you do it?"

"Asked some people with an owl," Harry said with a casual shrug. He'd seen Draco act nonchalant and consciously imitated him.

Draco laughed and put his hands on the cart. "C'mon, we're back here," he said, guiding the cart to a compartment towards the middle of the train. Working together, they easily got the trunk off the trolley and loaded into the train.

Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead. "That trunk is heavy."

"Father already left, but he sends his respects. Mum was meeting a friend for lunch, so she couldn't come with us. She sent you a tin of biscuits."

"I'll write her a thank you note immediately," Harry promised.

Before Draco could answer, several other children came piling into the compartment.

"It was a tarantula," one boy was saying. He was a little bit taller than Harry, with light brown hair that was cut short. He was already dressed in his school robes.

"And how do you know that, Theo?" asked a girl who almost looked like more of a boy than the boy did. She was of medium height and skinny, a tomboy if there ever was one; her plain brown hair was straight and limp, reaching to her jawline.

"I asked him, Millie."

"You were talking with a Gryffindor?" spat another girl, disgust written across her face. Her black hair was shiny, though, and neatly pulled into two braids.

"Shut up, Parkinson."

"Make me, Nott."

"Shrew."

"Puddle of troll vomit."

"Hag-breath."

"I'm going to hex you."

Theo Nott smiled in a wicked, inviting sort of manner. "Any time, love." He bowed to her and sat down. "Oi, Draco, is this the chap you said we all had to meet?"

Draco nodded, practically bursting with pride. "I'd like you all to meet my friend, Harry Potter."

Other than a gasp from Parkinson, the entire compartment went dead silent. Nott was staring at him, while the two girls weren't much better.

"Blimey," breathed Nott, clearly overwhelmed. "I'm going to hex _you_ , Draco, for keeping that a secret."

"You must be joking," Draco snapped. "Keeping it a secret? Isn't a chap entitled to surprise his mates every now and then?"

"Of course you are, Draco," said Parkinson, "but this is a pretty big shock. What if one of us had a weak heart?"

"You're eleven years old, Pansy," Nott pointed out.

"Shut up, Nott."

"Make me."

"Dirt eater."

"Hag."

"Muggle licker."

Nott began turning red. "You'll regret that."

"Not more than I regret knowing you."

Harry was a little uneasy at the casual exchange of insults. Draco must have noticed this, because he nudged Harry with his elbow.

"Ignore them. They've been at each other like this since they learned how to talk."

"Oh," said Harry. "All right."

"Are those two at it again?" asked a new voice, this one belonging to a pretty girl with a tumbled mane of blonde hair. She was about Harry's height, with bright blue eyes that were shining in utter amusement. Obviously she knew the pair and their natures.

"Hi, Tracy," the girl named Millie greeted her. "Yes, of course they're at it, but what do you mean 'again'? They've never stopped, have they?"

"I think when they sleep. Hello," she said, reaching a hand out to Harry. "Tracy Davis."

Harry shook hands. "Harry Potter."

Eyes wide, she shook hands enthusiastically. Then she turned to glare around the compartment. "Who's been keeping secrets?"

Millie pointed at Draco.

"Malfoy?" she said, her tone threatening.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"How could you?"

"I said I'd made a friend you ought to meet."

"Yes, but you didn't say it was Harry Potter!"

"So?" Draco said, putting a load of contempt into his voice. "Better you know about him and want to meet him without that."

"Point," she conceded, "but I'll have my revenge."

"I'm sure you will," he said with an oily smirk. "But anyways, since you cads are being so uncivilized, I guess I'll have to make the introductions. Harry, I'd like you to meet my friends. That there's Theo Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Millie Bulstrode, and you've met Tracy."

"Pleasure to meet you all," Harry said sincerely.

A knock on the door of their compartment interrupted them. A tall older boy who looked eerily like Draco stuck his head in. He had the same pale blond hair, the same grey eyes. Even his chin was pointed and his posture very proper.

"Everything going well, my lads and ladies?"

"Hi, Elan," Draco greeted his older brother.

"I'm just looking in on everyone before I go up to the front of the train. The prefects have two compartments to themselves." Sure enough, a shiny silver badge pinned to his billowing black Hogwarts robes had the letter P on it.

"Oh, are you a prefect?" Theo asked with total innocence.

"Quiet, you," Elan bantered back. "I know I showed you the badge when you were up at the Manor."

"I think we're all right, Elan. Thanks," Draco said.

"Very good," he said poshly. "If anything comes up, you know where to find me."

"Yes, you'll be snogging my sister," said Tracy.

Elan turned a most interesting shade of scarlet. He fled without another word as the children laughed. Clearly this group had long experience in pushing his buttons.

The whistle sounded. Everyone settled into a seat. Six people fit in the compartment quite comfortably. Everyone had space to stretch their legs out, and three people could stand without getting in each others' way.

"Later on, I'll introduce you to Crabbe and Goyle. They're one compartment down playing Exploding Snap."

"Are those the two idiots from a couple of months ago?" Theo asked. "I'd forgotten their names. I tried to forget them entirely."

"Yes, that's them."

"I was less than impressed with their combined intellect. I shall have nothing to do with them."

"Why should we suffer the presence of fools?" Tracy said.

"They know their place. Brute muscle has its place at times."

"Rent an ogre."

"Have you seen Terry or Mandy yet?" Theo asked.

"Terry's sitting two compartments up with some boys I don't know."

"Muggleborns?" was Theo's suspicious reply.

Tracy frowned in concentration. "I'm not sure. I wasn't really paying attention to them. I think one of them was wearing Muggle brand trainers."

Draco waved his hand. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything," he said. "They make footwear better than any wizard."

"Your father would have you gutted and hung on a fence if he heard you talking like that," Pansy jabbed at him.

"He said it himself," Draco defended. "Think about it. Wizards have brooms, Floo, and Apparition. Why do we need to walk anywhere? We certainly have no real need to run, except when we're young and can't Apparate. Plus we're not allowed brooms as first years and have no reason to Floo anywhere."

"What about Mandy?" Theo pressed. "Has anyone seen her yet?"

Pansy grinned wickedly. "Does our ickle Teddikins have a cwush on pwitty wittle Mandy?"

"She's my friend, twit," snarled Theo.

Tracy shook her head, sending her blonde hair whipping around. "I haven't seen her. I can't find the Patil twins either."

The train began to move. Harry glanced out the window and saw the platform disappear as the train picked up speed. It rounded the corner and the station was gone. Houses flashed by the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was headed toward, but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

"This is all so fantastic," he marvelled. "Tell me this is really happening."

"It's real, mate," Draco said. "You really have been rescued from that place. Tell us that story. I want to hear how Hagrid rescued you."

"Hagrid?" Tracy asked. "The groundskeeper? He rescued you? From where?"

"From the Muggle world," Draco said. "Harry's been living with Muggles for the last ten years. Can you believe that? Father's looking in to it, but Harry just found out about magic a month ago."

"That's so horrible. What a travesty of justice."

"Inhuman," Theo declared. "No wizard should be subjected to Muggles, least of all one born to a magical family, but tell us how you came back to your right world."

"Well, it all started with the letters."

Harry told the story of how the first letter had been taken away from him. The following day, two letters. On the third day, three, and so on. On the twelfth day, the letters appears inside a dozen eggs. They'd been chased from their home by all the letters, winding up in a fishing hut on a rock island in the middle of nowhere.

"And then Hagrid came. He knocked down the door, put Uncle Vernon in his place, and finally gave me my letter. He told me who I was, what had really happened to my parents. The Dursleys lied to me my whole life. They told me my parents were killed in a car crash."

"Muggles," Pansy said, wrinkling her nose. "I still have trouble believing it. No wizard should be raised by Muggles. It's bad enough with all the Muggleborns."

"What was it like?" Tracy asked. "Did you ever do accidental magic? I once turned my sister's hair red as a rose while she was babysitting me. She wouldn't let me listen to the wireless."

Harry grinned. "I guess I must have. It's nice to finally know what it meant. I guess my uncle was right when he said it was my fault."

"Your fault? They got angry with you?"

"Yeah. Pretty often, actually."

Tracy covered her mouth. "Did they ever get violent?"

"Er- sometimes. He yelled a lot. Called me a freak. I never understood why."

"Muggles are violent," Pansy said. "My father says so."

"Uncle Vernon was. He took a swipe at me every so often."

"Muggles," Draco snarled with contempt.

"Dudley was worse."

"Your cousin?" Tracy said.

"Yeah. He liked to beat me up. He's got a lot of tough kids that he hangs around with, and they liked to beat me up too."

"Pigs!"

"Everyone in school was afraid of Dudley's gang. Nobody wanted to be my friend. One time, Scott Allenson invited me to play over at his house. That afternoon, they stuffed him in a trashcan and rolled it down the hill. He almost got hit by a car and eventually crashed into a tree. Now he runs in the other direction if he sees me coming."

"That's barbaric!"

"Just one more in a long list of nasty things Muggles do to each other," Theo pronounced. "It's why we can never reveal ourselves to them."

"It was rather horrible," Harry said. "They had a letter that Dumbledore had written to tell me all about my parents and being a wizard and all, but they kept it from me. Until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or my parents or Voldemort-"

Tracy and Millicent gasped. Draco and Theo looked impressed. Pansy fell back in a faint.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" Theo whispered loudly, clearly over-awed.

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, you know," said Harry, "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn. I bet," he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"Worthless Muggles," Draco spat. "Not telling him he's a wizard! Keeping his heritage from him!"

"Agreed," said Tracy. "That's a sin that's unpardonable. Not to worry, Harry, we'll help you out. You're not going to be at a disadvantage just because of some stupid Muggles. We're going to take care of you. You'll be the brother we never had."

Harry blushed. He wasn't used to people doing nice things for him. "Thanks. Wish I had a wizard brother or sister."

"Hah!" Draco said. "It's not that special. Primarily it just means someone to annoy on a regular basis."

"Jamie's my best friend," Tracy retorted, "but yes, sometimes we get on each other's nerves.

"Plus he's nosy," said Draco. "Can't stand the idea of something going on that he doesn't know everything about. Forever poking in where he's not wanted."

"Jamie's just as bad. Forever asking me stupid questions. Honestly, those two deserve each other."

And there was much giggling.

"But Elan did tell me about the Sorting," Draco said. The others ooh'd and aah'd in astonishment.

"Jamie wouldn't budge. I even threatened to tell Mum about the time when she snuck out to see a boy, but it was no good. At least Jamie got in trouble."

"Elan told me not to worry at all. The great and mysterious trial is nothing more complex than putting a hat on your head."

"What?" they all asked.

"It's called the Sorting Hat, and it was made by the four Founders long ago. You put it on your head, and then it screams out your house for the whole school to hear."

Theo was agape. "But that's easy! I was certain we'd need spells! I had a whole list of nasty hexes lined up!"

"Waste of time, mate," Draco said with a smirk. "With all that hard work, perhaps you'll wind up in Hufflepuff."

"Absolutely disgusting!" Theo ranted. "I think I'd leave! My dad could teach me everything."

"Then again, you're very smart, so perhaps Ravenclaw is in your future."

"I know what's in your future, Malfoy, if you keep talking like that. My family is just as Slytherin as yours."

"But mine goes back further."

They talked about their pets, something Harry had neglected to get in his hurried rush through Diagon Alley's shops. Draco had his eagle owl, Arlette, of whom Harry was rather fond considering the fright she'd given Aunt Petunia, and he told this story to extremely amused laughter. Tracy had a grey-and-black striped kitten she'd named Argent because his patterns made him look silvery in the right light. Pansy and Millicent had both got owls, a screech owl named Benson and a barn owl named Eccidemas respectively. Nott's familiar, a jet black tabby cat named Onyx, had been with him for years, ever since she'd wandered into his kitchen during a rainstorm. Harry struggled to keep all the names straight, knowing it was probably a futile effort.

While they talked, the train carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They continued their conversations, though Harry spent a great deal of time listening and watching. These children seemed like quite a decent lot. They were friendly, amusing, and very interesting. Draco, Pansy, Theo, Millie, and Tracy had all been friends growing up.

Was this what it was like to be a normal boy? Harry wondered. If these were friends, then how he wished that he'd met them years ago. He too was from an old wizarding family, and surely he would have been friends with them all many years ago if Voldemort hadn't interfered.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor, and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, quickly followed by his new friends. He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry, but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen before.

"Wow," he said.

Draco glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Right. Gang? It's time for Harry's first lesson. Everybody get something different, and get enough to share."

Before Harry could protest, the five boys and girls had liberally raided the snack trolley. He tried to pay attention as his friends began to tell him all about the various sweets. He stuffed his face quite thoroughly. Theo's offer to give him a whole bunch of Chocolate Frog card doubles struck Harry as extremely generous, and he tucked the Dumbledore card away in his pocket.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

"Want to hear a joke?" Draco asked them.

"Sure," Tracy said for the group.

"Hufflepuff."

Theo snickered loudly, and everyone else joined in a few seconds later as it sank in. Harry laughed with them, even though he didn't get the joke. Surely the things they'd been saying about Hufflepuff weren't actually true.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment, and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry to bother you," he said diffidently, "but have you seen a toad anywhere? Trevor keeps running away from me."

They all shook their heads. The boy, Neville, Harry remembered, sniffed a few times, trying hard not to cry. "If you see him..."

"We will," said Harry. It was hard not to feel bad for the boy. Harry didn't own a pet, but if he did, he would probably be very upset to lose it.

Neville left.

Pansy was trying hard not to laugh. "Who brings a toad?" she asked curiously. "I know they were all the fad a few years ago, but honestly."

"Elan brought a toad his first year," Draco commented.

"Yes, himself," she giggled.

"You're just saying that because you fancy him," Draco shot back.

Pansy flushed slightly. "He's handsome," she said.

"It runs in the family," he said smugly, buffing his fingernails on his sweater.

"Git."

"Hadn't you better change into your robes?" Theo said, looking out the window. "We must be nearly there."

Everyone agreed with this and began to pull off their sweaters. Harry was stunned for a moment, but Draco nudged him.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just- I mean-" he stammered.

Realization dawned in Draco's eyes. "Oh! Oh, that stupid Muggle foolishness about undressing in mixed company?"

Harry nodded.

Draco sniffed. "Muggles are ever so provincial. We wizards take such things in stride. Come on then, don't be shy."

Harry was very embarrassed. It must have shown, too, because Tracy paused in the act of unbuttoning her trousers.

"Be a little more understanding, Draco. He was raised as a Muggle. There's bound to be a few problems while he adjusts. Ladies," she said, addressing Millicent and Pansy, who were also about to become indecently dressed, "let's go next door. Give Harry some privacy."

Harry flashed her a grateful smile as the three girls picked up their robes and left the compartment. He and Draco quickly stripped out of their casual clothes and donned the uniform shirt and trousers before pulling the robes on over their heads. Theo was already changed.

There was a knocking on the door, and it slid open. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"Are you stupid?" Theo asked incredulously. "We already told him we haven't seen it."

"There's no need to be rude," she said with a sniff. Then she caught sight of Harry's forehead.

"You're Harry Potter!" she exclaimed. "I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History, and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," the girl said. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. Who are the rest of you?"

Theo froze. "Granger? That's not a family name I know," he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

"My parents are dentists. They have a practice on the outskirts of London."

"You're Muggleborn," Draco said flatly.

"Yes, I'm the first in my family to be magical. It was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course. I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course. I just hope it will be enough."

"Oh, I promise you," Theo said softly, "that it will not be enough."

She turned to look at him, missing the dangerous glint in his eyes.

"There are certain disadvantages that Mudbloods like yourself have. One of those is not knowing your place."

"Get out of here, you arrogant little Mudblood," snapped Draco. "We don't want your kind around. Muggles are cruel, stupid, and worthless wastes of oxygen."

Harry started. Where did this venom come from?

"Well really," Granger sputtered, highly indignant, and turned to flounce out of the compartment. Neville had already fled.

" _Furnunculus!_ " Draco hissed, pointing his wand at her. A bunch of red sparks shot out of the tip of his wand, missing Granger entirely. She continued on as if she hadn't noticed.

"Damn!" he said. "It didn't work."

Harry stared at his friend. "Was that a curse?" he asked, unable to really say anything else.

"Hex," Draco answered. "Gives some nasty boils. Very elementary."

"Why'd you try to hex her?"

"We don't like Mudbloods," Theo declared. "They're bad news for decent, pureblooded wizards. She's just what all the rest are like: Arrogant, prissy, and entirely too full of themselves. They think they're special just because they're the first in their families to have magic. They get funny ideas, queer thoughts. It's better to put them in their place as soon as possible."

"I mean, can you believe how rude she was? 'You're Harry Potter!'" mocked Draco. "Not a care in the world for a chap's feelings. I hope we run into her again."

"Run in to whom?" asked Tracy as the three girls came back into the compartment.

"A Mudblood named Granger. Burst in here quite uninvited looking for that bloody toad, then she brings up our mate Harry's famousness without so much as a by-your-leave."

"What?" Tracy was outraged. "What sort of manners do these Muggles teach anyway?"

"Apparently not that much," answered Pansy. "I nominate our first order of business to be retribution."

"Second," chorused Millicent and Tracy.

"The motion passes," Pansy continued, "The floor is open for suggestions as to a course of action."

"Feed her to the squid!" That was Tracy.

"Throw her off the train!" That was Millicent.

"Snap her wand to bits." That was Theo.

"This panel was not open to the idiot opinions of idiot boys," Pansy said cheerfully.

"Hang her by her feet from the top of the Astronomy Tower." That was Draco.

"Excellent. Harry?"

Harry, who had been grinning at the vast indignation on his behalf, was suddenly on the spot. True, it had been very rude of Hermione to have brought up Harry's celebrity status. He'd been made famous for living when his parents had died. Didn't she have an ounce of sensitivity? Apparently not, because she had acted very arrogant and bossy. Suddenly, Harry hoped he wasn't sorted to the same house as her.

"Bribe the Sorting Hat to send her to Hufflepuff?" he suggested diffidently. His friends had all been bashing Hufflepuff a bit, so he figured mimicking them was a safe bet.

His suggestion was greeted with riotous laughter from his five friends. Pansy wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and sat up straight. "All those in favour of Harry's suggestion say 'aye,'" she said officially.

"Aye!" chorused the six of them.

"And against?"

Silence.

"The motion passes by a vote of five in favour, none opposed, and the idiot opinions of idiot boys do not count."

"Hey!"

"Now how do we bribe the Sorting Hat?"

"Who's going to go before her in the Sorting?"

"I will," said Millicent.

"Me too," said Tracy.

"Better make it good," warned Draco.

"Offer it whatever it wants," said Tracy. "We'll figure it out. There is no price too great to pay for the smiting of one's enemies."

"'Smiting'?" Draco asked incredulously. "Did you just say 'smiting'?"

"Yeah, it means to hurt them," Pansy chimed in.

"I know what it means!" he snapped.

"Aren't you going a little overboard, Tracy?" asked Harry.

"Absolutely not," she declared. "Purebloods stick together."

"I think she's sweet on you," Pansy said, jabbing her in the side.

Tracy flushed pink. "I never said that!"

"You didn't have to, sweetie. You didn't have to," smirked Pansy.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogsmeade station in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched with excitement. He looked around at his friends. They were all grinning hugely. This was it. They were almost there. Everyone packed their sweets away in their trunks, each person giving Harry a package or two.

"Here we go," said Tracy with an up-beat cast to her voice.

They joined the crowd of students thronging in the corridor. The train slowed down as the station came into view. When it finally stopped, people pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. Draco and the rest of Harry's new friends grimaced as he came into sight, but out of respect for what he'd done for Harry they said nothing.

"C'mon now, follow me. Any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me! This way down to the boats!"


	4. The Bribing of the Hat

Hagrid reached up one large hand and knocked on the tall door. It swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face, and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid solemnly.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house into it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right. The rest of the school must have already arrived, but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on the youngest Weasley boy, Ron, who had dirt on his nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair, a fruitless task.

"I shall return for you when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber and Harry swallowed hard. Why did they have to wait?

Draco had told them all about the Sorting Ceremony, so he wasn't at all nervous about that. He could hear some of the other kids speculating about what they'd have to do, but he and his friends kept quiet.

"...some sort of test..."

"...it hurts a lot..."

"...I wonder what spells I'll need..."

"...wrestle a troll..."

Harry was getting tired of waiting. He'd been waiting all this time and he wanted it to happen now. He kept his eyes fixed on the door, willing it to open and Professor McGonagall to say that they were ready. Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air. Several people behind him screamed.

"What the-?"

He gasped. So did the people near him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance."

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost. I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," came a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Harry and his friends exchanged excited glances. This was it! He followed Draco and Theo, walking next to Tracy and in front of Pansy and Millicent. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a throng facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard that prissy Granger girl whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

Show-off! thought Harry, but it was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open up to the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

Everyone was staring intently at the hat. For a few seconds there was complete silence, then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat began to sing:

Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap! 

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Hannah Abbott!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause-

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Susan Bones!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Terry Boot!"

"That's our friend Terry," Draco whispered to Harry.

Terry was a pleasant-enough-looking boy. He was a couple of inches shorter than Harry with very large brown eyes and a round face. He had close-cropped light brown hair.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Rotten luck," whispered Theo. "I was hoping he'd be with us."

"His whole family is Ravenclaw. How surprised can you be?" asked Tracy.

"Mandy Brocklehurst!"

"Theo's girlfriend," whispered Pansy.

"Shut up!" Theo hissed.

Mandy, a short, pretty girl with big black pigtails went to Ravenclaw too, but "Lavender Brown" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see the twin Weasley brothers, Fred and George, catcalling.

"Millicent Bulstrode!"

"This is it Millie. Don't muff it!" Pansy whispered to her.

Harry's heart lurched a little. Surely she wasn't actually going to try to bribe the Sorting Hat? Was she?

With confidence, Millicent strode forward and sat down. She pulled the hat on and everyone waited.

Seconds ticked by as everyone waited breathlessly. Finally the tear opened up and the hat shouted out, "SLYTHERIN!"

She was smiling as she took the hat off. She nodded significantly to Pansy and went to sit with the Slytherins at the far right table.

"She did it!" exclaimed Pansy. "I don't know how she did it, but she did it! Revenge is ours!"

Harry's smile was a little weak. What had he started?

Michael Corner went to Hufflepuff, and Stephen Cornfoot was sent to Ravenclaw.

"Vincent Crabbe!" That was one of the bigger boys who had ridden in the boat with Theo and Millicent.

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Tracy Davis!"

It took only a second or two for the hat to yell, "SLYTHERIN!" for everyone to hear.

Kevin Entwhistle went to Ravenclaw. Justin Finch-Fletchley went to Hufflepuff. Seamus Finnigan sat on the stool almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor. Amy Geagan and Chrissy Golding were also sent to Gryffindor. Anthony Goldstein was a Hufflepuff.

"Gregory Goyle!" That was the other bigger boy.

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Hermione Granger!"

The bushy-haired, buck-toothed Muggleborn almost ran up to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. Draco, Theo, and Tracy all evinced various expressions of distaste. Pansy had a very eager look on her face.

The hat was silent for awhile. Muffled words could be heard from underneath. It appeared as though she was arguing with it.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Hermione pulled the hat off her head looking very unhappy. She placed it back on the stool and stomped off towards the Hufflepuff table amidst cheers from the Hufflepuffs and laughter from Harry's friends.

"Daphne Greengrass!" became the third girl Sorted to Slytherin.

Wayne Hopkins was declared a Hufflepuff as well as Megan Jones, and Su Li was a Ravenclaw in short order.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Neville was so excited that he ran off still wearing the hat and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "Morag MacDougal," who became a Ravenclaw. "Ernie Macmillan" was the last boy to be Sorted to Hufflepuff.

Then it was Draco's turn. He swaggered rather nonchalantly up to the stool. He pulled the hat on, but didn't get a chance to sit down before it screamed out, "SLYTHERIN!"

Draco winked at Harry, waved to his friends, and went to join Crabbe, Goyle, Greengrass, and Millicent at the Slytherin table. There weren't many people left now.

Then it was Theo's turn and he sauntered just as casually as Draco.

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Pansy Parkinson!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

A pair of twin girls, Padma and Parvati Patil were next, Padma to Ravenclaw, Parvati to Gryffindor. Sally-Anne Perks went to Hufflepuff.

"Harry Potter!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

" _The_ Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his hear. "Difficult. Very difficult."

It was to be just like choosing a wand, apparently.

"Plenty of courage, though you don't believe it. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes, and a nice thirst to prove yourself. Now that's interesting. So where shall I put you?"

Harry was thinking about the new friends he'd made, children who had opened their arms and hearts to him. They didn't treat him like some freak show the way the people in the Leaky Cauldron or the Granger bint had. They were a bit rough around the edges, but they treated Harry a sight better than anyone ever had before. He really didn't want to go to a different house from them.

"Already made friends in Slytherin I see, yes, and you want to be with your friends. You could be great, yes, and Slytherin would help you on your way. It seems to me that everything points to SLYTHERIN!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Slytherin table. He noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Draco's brother Elan got up and was shaking his hand vigorously. Several other boys were yelling, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

He could see the High Table clearly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who was staring at him in shock. In the centre of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the bright hall that shone as bright as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

There were only four people left now. "Dean Thomas," a tall boy with warm dark brown skin went to Gryffindor. "Lisa Turpin" was a Ravenclaw, and then it was Ron Weasley's turn.

He didn't look well at all, turning green under his freckles. He staggered up to the stool, almost collapsed on top of it, and pulled the hat on. It was silent for only a few seconds before shouting out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry watched as the now white-faced boy made his way over to where his brothers sat and collapsed. They were all patting him on the back and congratulating him.

"Blaise Zabini!"

A black-skinned boy was the last to be called. He sat down under the hat. They all waited a long thirty seconds before the hat declared, "SLYTHERIN!"

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away as Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. He beamed at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down to claps and cheers. Harry looked around at his friends. None of them were quite certain of what to make of this.

"Is he," he asked Elan uncertainly, "a bit mad?"

"Completely off his rocker," Elan said cheerfully. "Potatoes?"

The magnificence of the feast astounded Harry. The sheer variety of meat dishes rendered him speechless. He drooled unabashedly as the delicious aromas filled his nose. Now, unlike at Number Four, he could eat as much as he wanted.

And he did.

He felt a chill from nearby and looked to his right to see a horribly disfigured ghost sitting one seat away. He had blank, staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood.

"Welcome, Mister Potter," the Bloody Baron said softly. "You will do quite well in Slytherin."

"Thank you," he said, not quite sure what response was called for.

The desserts replaced the remnants of the feast, and Harry somehow found the capacity to pack away a large helping of treacle tart.

"I hope you're all up to helping us hold onto the House Cup this year," Elan was saying. "Slytherin House has won the past six years. It's a matter of pride for us now."

"Six years, wow," said Millicent, clearly awed.

"So don't get caught breaking rules!" Elan admonished. "We're going to have a sort of orientation once we all get back to the dormitory to help make things easier for you."

"Millie, what did you say to the hat?" Pansy was dying to know.

Millicent smirked. "I just told it that if it would do something for me, I'd do whatever it wanted."

"And what does it want?"

"It wants to direct the school choir. I told it we'd circulate a petition to get one started."

They all laughed at that, except Millicent. "I also told it that we'd all be in it." The laughter ceased.

"What?" came Draco's outraged protest.

"It was the only way I could get it to agree," she said defensively. "Like Tracy said, there's no price too high to pay for the smiting of our enemies, and this is a pretty small sacrifice."

Draco sighed. "I guess," he said dejectedly, "but I can't sing."

"So? If we're bad, maybe we won't have to follow through."

"Hopefully."

Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his large goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" he said, clapping a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Elan.

"N-nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling he'd gotten from the teacher's look. He wasn't sure what it was, but the teacher seemed to already know more about Harry than just his name. The look on the man's face had been unreadable.

"Elan, who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?"

"That's Professor Snape, our Head of House. He's the Potions Master, but he knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts and would be a superb instructor in that subject."

Harry watched Professor Snape for awhile, but the teacher never looked back over at him.

At last the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"More stupid words?" Draco wondered quietly to Harry.

"Ahem \- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by Mister Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of few who did. "He's not serious," he muttered to Elan.

"Must be," Elan said, frowning. "That's odd; he usually gives an explanation for new rules. He didn't even tell the prefects about this."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he were trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something, please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot. 

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

The Slytherin first years followed Elan through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and down the marble staircase, down the stairs that led to the dungeons. They turned left and right through the labyrinthine passages. Elan stopped partway along a hallway with a carved stone column at the corner

"The password is 'Gryffindors are stupid'."

"Isn't the house rivalry starting a little early?" grinned Draco.

"Who cares? It's funny," giggled Daphne.

A stone door concealed in the wall recessed and slid to the side. The first years poured through, eager to see their new home.

The common room was in the shape of an elongated rectangle. It was an underground-style room, with steps that led down to the recessed floor, carpeted in a rich green with silver designs. The walls and ceiling were rough-hewn stone. Lamps hung on chains from the ceiling, giving off a cosy greenish light. A fire was crackling cheerfully under an elaborately carved mantelpiece in the centre of the long wall. Beanbag chairs were scattered before the fire grate. Several high-backed chairs surrounded each of the tables that were evenly distributed throughout the room. There were two corridors at the far end of the room. Bookshelves lined the walls. It was a very pleasant sort of place.

"Dormitories are down those corridors," Elan said, pointing towards the far end of the room. "Boys on the right and girls on the left. First years are at the end of the corridor this year."

The corridor made a right-hand turn a few steps in, and they followed it to the end. They passed six heavy wooden doors on their left before they saw a bronze plaque reading 'First Years' prominent on the last door. They pushed it open to find their beds at last.

Six four-poster beds were hung with velvet curtains of deep verdant green. At the foot of each bed was a school trunk. Each boy also had a chair and a writing desk. A silver and green scarf and tie was hung over the back of each chair.

Each of the beds was positioned with the headboard against the near wall. In the opposite wall was a large picture window, giving a beautiful view of the night sky above and the black glass lake below.

"Not bad," breathed Harry.

"I'll say. Look at that view," echoed Draco.

"Good thing we have curtains. I wouldn't want the sun to strike me first thing." Theo was yawning.

"How can we have a view if we're underground?" Goyle asked.

"Must be the exterior of the cliff face," Theo theorized.

Too tired to talk overlong, they pulled on their pyjamas and fell into bed. Harry dropped off to sleep almost immediately. He was happy and well-fed and very, very tired. He slept soundly the whole night through.


	5. Settling In

Morning came very quickly for the tired first years, but the anticipation of attending their first classes quickly burned away any sleepiness. Elan came into their room first thing and awoke them all.

"Orientation meeting in fifteen minutes," he said.

They quickly rose and pulled on slippers and dressing gowns before filing into the common room where Elan and the other prefects were waiting.

Harry sat down in one of the beanbag chairs near the fireplace because he was slightly cold. He was quickly joined by Tracy, Draco, Pansy, and Theo. Millicent pulled over a high-backed chair, which he could now see was amply padded. Crabbe and Goyle leaned against the wall, trying hard not to yawn. Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass, not quite as well acquainted with their little group, stood slightly apart from everyone else.

"Most of you know me, but for those who don't, my name is Elan Octavio Malfoy. I'm a fifth year prefect, and this is our orientation meeting. I'd like to introduce Abraham Montague, one of our sixth year prefects. Abraham?"

A dark-haired boy stood up from the group seated at the table. "Good morning. I must apologize for making you all get out of bed at such an ungodly hour, but you were so tired last night, we decided to postpone until this morning.

"There are certain things you all need to know if you're going to succeed here in Slytherin House. It's our job as prefects to make sure you know those things. Now then, since the sixth years don't have OWLs or NEWTs to study for, we are the ones who are put in charge of you first years, making sure that you don't get lost, hurt, or otherwise in trouble. Basically we have to look out for you."

"We?" Tracy asked.

Abraham smiled at her. "I was just about to introduce my counterpart, the lovely Jessica Conejo. Jess, stand up."

A pretty Spanish girl with mounds of curly black ringlets rose gracefully to her feet. "Good morning. Even though it's we sixth years who are in charge of you, you can come to any of us prefects with questions or concerns.

"This is Peter von Erickson," she said, pointing to a tall, well-muscled boy, "and Molly Archer, the seventh years." A pretty blonde girl who was wearing too much make-up smiled and waved at them. "Elan, of course," the elder Malfoy rose to his feet and took a deep bow, "and Jamie Davis, whom most of you already know, representing the fifth years." Tracy's older sister, a short girl with very chic blonde hair also stood up, though she dropped a graceful curtsy rather than bowing.

Abraham cleared his throat. "The most important thing I can say to you is that Slytherins stick together. We can show the outside world no crack in our armour, no gap in our defences. We must have complete solidarity. This means that you support your fellow Slytherins, no matter what. Take up your personal problems in private, preferably here in the Lair, where no unfriendly ears can overhear."

Jessica continued that line of thought. "Solidarity is our best defence. The other houses, most notably Gryffindor, hate us. We have a half-ally in Ravenclaw House, but we can truly depend only on ourselves."

"Now then, here are the ground rules of Slytherin House," said Abraham. "One: Never take the blame for anything.

"Two: To avoid taking blame, never get caught.

"Three: If you do get caught, deny everything and blame someone else.

"Four: No member of Slytherin House is to maltreat another in any way at all if there's anybody from another house watching.

"Five: Blood does matter. Ability matters more.

"Six: There is no- Rule Six.

"Seven: Slytherin does not mean junior Death Eater.

"Now then-"

"You left out Rule Eight: Loyalty is not just for Hufflepuffs," Jessica interrupted him.

"Oops," Abraham said, slightly embarrassed. "You're going to do fine, I know it," he assured them. "If you have problems with classwork, you can come see your prefects, preferably us sixth years, though if we're not around, any of the others will gladly help you out."

Jessica grinned at them. "If you have problems with other students, as is bound to happen, we'll be glad to help you out. We won't fight your battles for you, so you're going to have to take care of the problem yourself, but we'll give you all the advice you could want." Harry noticed that Jessica had a very nice smile.

"Don't worry about getting lost during your first week. We," said Abraham, indicating himself and Jessica, "will be here in the common room every morning to provide directions, and to top it all, we'll actually take you to your first lesson of each class."

"I think that covers the basics, doesn't it Peter?" asked Jessica, turning to face the other prefects at their table.

"It does," Peter replied, nodding his head. "It's getting time for breakfast. Why don't you all have a shower and be back here in thirty minutes? We'll guide you back up to the Great Hall."

Feeling very reassured about everything, Harry went to get his bath things. So far, being in Slytherin was pretty great.

"Nice to know they're looking out for us," he commented to Theo as they trudged down the hall to the bathroom.

"Solidarity, Harry, solidarity. It's what makes our house strong. A house divided cannot stand."

"That's pretty profound for oh-seven-thirty," Draco snickered.

"I'll oh-seven-thirty my foot on your bum," Theo threatened.

Draco clapped his hands to his cheeks and made a quavering, wibbling sound. "Oh no, anything but that!" he mocked.

"Guys, not before breakfast," Harry sighed, pushing the bathroom door open. He stopped in his tracks.

"Wow," he breathed.

The bathroom was an impressive sight. The floor was tiled with a pattern of silver and green, the Slytherin House colours. The long row of sinks mounted on the near wall had bright silver handles. The shower stalls that lined the far wall had highly decorated curtains with beautiful mythological scenes. A door immediately ahead read 'WC' on it.

"Pretty impressive," said Draco, looking around.

Crabbe grunted and shuffled towards the showers.

The water was instantly warm, just the temperature Harry liked. He concluded it must have a spell on it, and he said as much to his friends.

"Some parents made a big investment about three years ago," Draco told him, raising his voice to be heard above the noise of the showers, "protesting that it wasn't fair for us to have such miserable dungeon conditions. So we get the nicest bathroom, aside from the prefects' bathroom, of course, with very specific charms on each shower to adjust the water to the proper temperature. The shampoo and conditioner never run out. I believe there's also a way to turn the shower stall into a proper bathtub."

"Neat," Harry said, echoed by Theo.

With towels wrapped around their waists and pyjamas in hand, the boys straggled back to their room at their own pace. Pulling on a brand new uniform and robes, Harry felt excitement starting to build again.

Back in the common room, they were joined by Millicent, Tracy, and Daphne, and they once again relaxed in the beanbag chairs while they all waited for Pansy to come out. Theo couldn't relax and kept popping up to pace nervously.

"I'm hungry!" he finally burst out.

"So what else is new?" called Pansy's mocking voice. She stepped out of the girls' corridor and smirked at Theo.

"Your smart mouth, girl-"

"Enough," Jessica said sternly. "We're about to go out and face the rest of the school. The time for bickering is over. Now we are all united."

She led them back through the maze of dungeon tunnels. Harry was awake enough now to understand that they were walking in a very big almost-circle. He chose not to say anything, though, as it seemed to be the shortest route.

Finally they came up the stone steps and into the castle proper. Then up some marble stairs and they were back in the Great Hall. There were already many students eating, and the Slytherin first years wasted no time in finding seats and filling their plates.

Harry helped himself to perhaps the best cooked breakfast he'd ever enjoyed. The little fried tomatoes were scrumptious. He piled on the eggs while everyone dug deep into the serving platters.

"Breakfast," Elan said around a mouthful of food, "is the most important meal of the day."

"Jess, has Professor Snape given you the schedules yet?" Abraham asked, between forkfuls.

She nodded. "I'll take care of the first years if you want to get the others."

"Sounds good."

Jessica handed Harry his schedule, and he stopped eating to study it. It was written in a very neat script, something Harry had yet to master with the quill.

"Herbology first thing with Ravenclaw," Theo said.

Pansy swallowed a bite of toast. "Aww, Ickle Teddikins can see his girlfriend Mandy," she teased.

Theo growled at her. "I'm going to throw you off the top of the Astronomy Tower," he promised.

She fluttered her eyelashes. "Ooh, you want to take me up to the Astronomy Tower?" They'd heard last night from some second years that older students sometimes had romantic escapades up at the top of the Astronomy Tower, under the stars.

Theo concentrated on eating his eggs and toast, obviously giving up on trying to get the last word in for this argument.

"After Herbology we have History of Magic with Hufflepuff," Draco said, looking closely at the schedule. He grimaced. "There's Mudbloods in Hufflepuff. After lunch is Charms, then Transfiguration. Blimey, they lay it on thick the first day."

Harry finished his breakfast and drank the last of his milk. Everyone else was finishing as well.

"Herbology is very easy to get to," Abraham said. "Follow me."

Jessica brought up the rear as Abraham led them out of the Great Hall and through the corridors to a large set of double doors. They stepped out into the open light and saw a number of large greenhouses.

"You're in Greenhouse One, which is just ahead there. We'll be along to escort you to History of Magic. Have fun and do the house proud."

Herbology, taught by a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, was a very interesting class. Harry had done his best to remember things from One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi as it was relevant to two subjects, so he understood most of the Professor's lecture. The greenhouse made for an interesting classroom since it was filled with live specimens.

Abraham and Jessica met them at the double doors which led back into the castle. "Well my lads and ladies, what did you think?" he asked them. "Did you like Herbology?"

"It was interesting," said Harry.

"Boring," yawned Crabbe.

"Yeah," yawned Goyle.

"Nah, it was pretty cool," disagreed Theo.

"Not too bad," said Millicent.

"I'm going to hate it," said Tracy. "I quite abhor dirt."

"'Abhor'? What did you have for breakfast, a dictionary?" Draco asked her.

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"I'm going to poison Theo as soon as Professor Sprout shows us which plant is nightshade," Pansy said cheerfully.

"I'm going to throw Pansy off the top of the Astronomy Tower after our lesson," he replied just as cheerfully.

"Ah, the love. You can cut it with a knife," Jessica smiled.

"This way to History of Magic," Abraham said as he led the way.

Harry's excitement after reading the text over the summer was dashed. History of Magic was the most boring class alive. Except that it wasn't alive; in fact, it was quite dead. Professor Binns was a ghost. He had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. Crabbe and Goyle took the opportunity to go back to sleep.

Harry struggled to keep his eyes open. This was certainly not what he'd had in mind when Hagrid had told him he was a wizard. The only person who was taking an active interest in the lecture was Hermione Granger. Everyone else was slouched back in their chairs, barely awake, but the Muggleborn witch was perched at the edge of her seat, scratching her quill furiously, seemingly determined not to miss a single thing.

She appeared to be hard at work, just like a good Hufflepuff. Draco caught Harry's attention and tipped his head in Granger's direction while rolling his eyes and making a funny face. Harry smothered a snort of laughter and wrote down 'Lester the Unlikely' in his notes.

Abraham and Jessica met them outside the classroom and didn't bother to ask how the lesson had gone. Apparently their tired faces were testament enough. As he followed along back towards the Great Hall, Harry was looking forward to lunch. Some food would be just the thing to perk him back up.

That was when he noticed the whispers. Harry's presence was being noted by the other students. They stared at him; they stared at his scar. They gawked at him, not caring if he saw them or not. Even if he made eye contact with them, they still seemed in awe. It was unnerving and _really_ hard to cope with. He made certain to take a seat facing the wall when they went to lunch.

After lunch, Jessica led them to the Charms corridor. Professor Flitwick turned out to be a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. They spent the class learning the proper way to hold a wand for charmwork.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone caught fooling around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized that they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, Millicent had managed to get the end of her match to become pointy, and Theo had managed to turn it into silver, but none of the rest had any luck.

After their last class, the first year Slytherins all returned to the Serpents' Lair to drop off their belongings. It was only half past four though, and dinner was two hours away. Harry had decided he was going to do some more reading, but quickly changed his mind when Draco invited him to play Exploding Snap.

The game was simple enough, but the risk of getting burned lent it a rather keen edge. Crabbe and Goyle, both of them being clumsy and awkward, took far more than their fair share of burns. Millicent was the only one who escaped injury, and Harry was nursing sore fingers on the way upstairs to the Great Hall.

The girls had made a detour to the lavatory, so the boys were on their own as they came out from the stone walls of the dungeon into the marble-lined magnificence that was the front entryway. Four first year Gryffindor boys were coming down the marble stairs at the same time. Remembering how nice the woman on the platform had been, Harry waved.

"Hi, Weasley."

The red-haired boy stopped and gave him a cold look. His eyes briefly snapped up to the scar on Harry's forehead.

"What do you want, Slytherin?" he asked in a nasty tone.

"Nothing," Harry said, startled by the rebuff. "I just wanted to say hi."

Weasley didn't say anything else, but the sneer on his face said more than enough. He turned and went to catch up with the others Gryffindors.

"Do you know him, Harry?" asked Draco.

"No, not really. I saw him outside the platform. His mother was the lady I asked how to get through the barrier. I just thought I'd say hi, but I didn't expect him to be such a tosser."

"What's his name?" Theo asked.

"Ron Weasley," Harry replied.

"Weasley." Theo let the word roll around in his mouth. He managed to make it sound quite distasteful.

"I know the name," Draco said shortly. "Hey, Weasel!" he sneered in Ron's direction.

Weasley stopped again and looked back over his shoulder. This time Longbottom and the other two boys stopped to wait for him.

"That's right. I'm talking to you, Weasel," Draco drawled insultingly.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

Draco stepped closer, and Crabbe and Goyle moved up to flank him, standing a short distance behind. They looked like bodyguards, with seriously unfriendly expressions on their faces.

"I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," Draco said, drawling his words once more. "This is Crabbe," he said gesturing left with his head, "and this is Goyle," he continued, gesturing right, flipping his hair around.

"Draco Malfoy?" Weasley asked, trying to suppress a snigger.

"Think my name's funny, do you? Note that I had no need to ask your name. My father told me that the Weasley family has red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford," he sneered.

Weasley's face was turning red. "Shut up, Malfoy! You've got a lot of nerve to talk to me that way."

"You've got a lot of nerve to be rude to Harry the way you just were. I think you owe him an apology."

"Get stuffed. I don't apologize to Slytherins."

"I don't think I like your attitude."

"Isn't that a shame?" 

"You'd better watch yourself, Weasley. Nasty things happen to those who don't respect their betters."

"When they come along, I'll make sure to take notice."

"You've got an answer for everything, don't you, Weasel? I bet-" Draco broke off, staring at Ron's feet. "You're wearing Muggle trainers and then not even getting robes that cover them up? You _are_ a poor excuse for a wizard."

Weasley was obviously sizing up Crabbe and Goyle. His eyes flicked back to Harry briefly, then flicked to Theo, and back to Draco. He threw a quick look back over his shoulder at Thomas and Finnigan. He glanced sideways at Longbottom. Harry knew he was trying to decide if they could beat the odds.

Weasley took a deep breath. "Any time you want to find out how much of a wizard I am is fine with me, Malfoy."

He turned his back and walked into the Great Hall, trailed by his friends.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked.

"Some wizarding families are better than others, Harry. Weasleys actually like Muggles. They like all the atrocious things that Muggles do to each other. They forget the awful things the Muggles have done to us. Well we don't forget." His tone was sombre. "Fascinated with their primitive culture and their primitive science. Turned their backs on the wizarding world, they have. It's a wonder their blood hasn't been diluted to nothing by now."

"You sound rather elitist," Harry said. He'd been taught in Muggle school that people were equal.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Of course we are. Even the Muggles still have their royals around. Royalty is the most stable form of rule, the form that best serves the people. With one person to issue orders, things get done, and there's no silly obstacles like politicking, or running for re-election. There's plenty of that codswallop every time the Minister of Magic is up for office."

"But look at what happened to most Muggle Royalties," Harry said. "Revolutions!"

"Further proof," Draco crowed, "that Muggles are uncivilized. Muggle Royals often took only the privileges of their rank and station, but not the responsibilities. Their children grew up spoiled brats. That's why they were overthrown. A child, properly raised and taught responsibility and common decency, can grow up to be a wise and benevolent ruler."

"He's not telling you that our Royal theory also includes elected officials to a Parliament which reflects the will of the people," Theo interjected.

"You have a whole theory about this?" Harry was amused.

"It was a project my father assigned us," Theo answered. "Myself, Draco, Pansy, Millie, and Tracy."

"He was your tutor, right?" Harry remembered that from Draco's letters.

"Yes. He taught us all about magical theory and philosophy," Draco said. "Sometimes he would bring guests to speak with us. He didn't want us to be limited to one viewpoint. Our parents wanted us to be able to think, not to just follow blindly."

"Yeah, well stop pontificating and blindly follow yourself into that Hall. You're in the way," Tracy said, as she led the girls up the stairs. Pansy elbowed Theo out of the way, even though he really wasn't in it.

"Stop what?" Draco asked, confused.

"Pontificating. It means 'Malfoy is a stuck-up git'," she smirked at him.

"Hey!"

"Come on. Dinner is waiting," Pansy said as she shoved Theo towards the doors.

Dinner was a sumptuous affair, though not quite with the grandeur of the Welcoming Feast. Some of Harry's favourite foods were on the menu, and he was hungry.

As Draco began relating the Weasley Incident, as he called it, to Tracy and Millicent (Pansy and Theo were bickering again), Harry thought about his day.

With four classes behind him, Harry thought that Transfiguration seemed to be the most difficult. He was feeling pretty uneasy about it, for Professor McGonagall seemed a very demanding taskmistress and wasn't likely inclined to mercy.

Professor Flitwick, on the other hand, rather seemed to like him, and Harry figured he would do quite well in Charms. It had certainly been embarrassing when the diminutive professor tumbled off his stack of books, but the class was interesting.

Just as interesting, in its own way, was Herbology. He'd already learned that wolfsbane was also called monkshood. Professor Sprout had mentioned, as he'd remembered from his reading, that it was a deadly poison.

History of Magic seemed to be the worst of the lot. It appeared to be good for nothing other than forty winks. How he was supposed to stay awake through the monotony of it, he didn't know. At least he wasn't alone in that feeling.

"Binnsy'll bore you to tears," Abraham was saying at dinner. "He's never going to learn your names, so don't get offended. He might also call you by your father's name. You get used to him."

"But the material!" Tracy despaired. "It's so bloody boring."

"That's why you sleep in class and read your book later. You also do other reading, to get the real picture. If you can make it more than just one endless 'and then', History of Magic is pretty interesting."

"How can you lie to them like that, Abraham?" Jessica asked. "You are the only person in this school who enjoys History."

"I like studying history. History is interesting."

"I prefer to _make_ history," she said, tossing her head, sending her dark curls flipping back over her shoulder.

"Anyways," Abraham continued, "if you apply yourself and don't let it become 'that dreadfully boring history stuff,' then you can bear through it easily. You might even learn a thing or two."

"So Harry, what was your first day like?" Jessica asked him curiously.

"It was all wonderful," he said, meaning it. Even the boring parts of his day had been worlds better than the best day on Privet Drive.

"I can't believe I've missed out on so much. I can't even imagine going back to living like a Muggle."

"His blood is singing to him," Draco said proudly.

"Well I'm glad you're back among wizards, Harry, where you truly belong." Jessica smiled at him.

Dessert was served, and Harry stuffed himself on treacle tart. He was still revelling that there was no Dudley around to take it away from him.

"You know what we should do after dinner?" Draco said to Theo.

"What's that?"

"Hexes."

Theo grinned. "And curses?"

"Of course. We haven't had any free time yet. We really ought to be prepared for our first Defence lesson tomorrow, wouldn't you say?"

"It would be extremely imprudent to be unprepared."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Did anyone bring their Defence book along today?"

"I did," Tracy said.

"Good work, Tracy," said Draco.

"Where shall we go?" Theo asked. "I'm sure there are plenty of empty rooms in the dungeons."

Tracy responded, "I found a suitable place this afternoon. It's right next to the History of Magic classroom."

"Excellent. We'll go now, shall we?"

Harry, Draco, Theo, Pansy, Tracy, and Millie got up from the table.

"Where are you all going?" Blaise Zabini asked.

"We're going to work on some hexes and jinxes," Draco replied.

"Yeah? Sounds like fun."

Draco cocked his head in consideration. "Would you like to come along?"

"All right."

Harry looked at Daphne Greengrass. "How about you?"

Daphne jumped slightly. "Me? I'd love to. Thanks."

Draco glanced at Crabbe and Goyle. "You two may as well come too."

"Thanks, Draco," they said.

The empty room appeared to be a normal classroom. There were desks stacked all on one wall, and a few boxes were perched here and there.

"Excellent find, Tracy," Theo congratulated her.

"I think this is some kind of storage room, except with nothing stored in it."

"It's perfect for us," Pansy said, agreeing, for once, with Theo. "Until we find more places, that is. We'll have to thoroughly explore the dungeons. Now we can all practice together."

"Crabbe, you'll be our first test victim," Draco declared.

Crabbe looked uneasy. "I dunno, Draco. I don't think I want to."

Draco's jaw dropped. "Am I going mad, or did the word 'think' just escape your lips?"

Crabbe had no answer, so he nodded vaguely.

"Get up there and stand still," Draco ordered. "There's not much we can do to permanently damage you anyway."

Crabbe, still looking mighty nervous, stepped about five metres away and turned around. "You do know all the counters, right?"

"Not really, no," Draco said breezily, as he pointed his wand. " _Furnunculus!_ " he said.

Red sparks spat from the end of his wand, just like when he had tried to hex Hermione Granger on the train.

"Bloody hell," he cursed. "I am saying it right, aren't I?"

" _Furunculus_ ," Pansy said, sounding it out phonetically.

" _Furnunculus!_ "

"You're adding an extra 'n'," Millicent said, frowning as she listened to him. "Fur-un, not Fur-nun."

Daphne giggled. "Fur-nun sounds like something weird having to do with the C of E."

" _Furunculus!_ " A jet of red light with a white core flashed from the tip of Draco's wand, striking Crabbe in the chest.

"Ah!" he yelled. "That hurts!"

Harry clapped his hands a few times, impressed. Draco looked up the counterhex and cast it, giving Crabbe relief from the pain.

"Your turn, Harry," Draco invited him, gesturing with a sweeping arm.

Well, here it was, his first attempt to do an actual spell. Harry was quite nervous, but it was with his friends. Draco had gone first and failed; Harry didn't need to worry. He could do this, and even if he couldn't, his friends would still be his friends.

" _Furunculus!_ " He wasn't sure why he picked the same hex, but it worked fabulously. A jet of that red-white light shot out from his wand, striking Crabbe in the face.

"Ah!" he shouted, clutching at his face. "Pick something else, will you?"

"Way to go, Harry!" Tracy congratulated him. "Told you, you're a natural."

"The counter?" Millicent said, looking at the suffering Crabbe.

Harry pointed his wand and spoke the counterhex, causing the boils to fade from Crabbe's face. The bigger boy was whimpering slightly.

"My turn!" Tracy said, jumping to the front.

"What about me?" Theo asked.

"Idiot boys get to go last," Pansy said, sticking out her tongue at him.

"I'll go last, but only if I get to hex you," he said, looking at her in a challenging manner.

She scoffed at him. "Since I know you're too stupid to actually cast the hex, I agree, but only if I get to hex you back."

Theo's voice went very high and prissy. "Oh, she wants a proper duel does she? Well, we must all bend our knee to the crown," he mocked her.

"I'm looking for the nightshade," she reminded him.

"You wouldn't know the difference between nightshade and a night watchman," he scoffed back at her.

"Do it now," begged Crabbe. "No more hexes at me!"

"Shut up, Crabbe," Pansy snapped.

"Shut it, fathead!" Theo snapped at the same time.

"Hey!" Crabbe protested. "My head's not fat!"

" _Furunculus!_ " Tracy said, ignoring the squabbling pair, sending the hex flying at Crabbe, who shrieked like a four year-old girl with a skinned knee.

Millicent took pity on him though, sending her hex at Goyle, who was a bundle of nerves from watching Crabbe.

Pansy and Theo had squared off, wands at the ready. "One, two, three," Draco drawled, clearly bored by their antics.

" _Furunculus!_ " Theo shouted, sending the jet of light towards her.

She threw herself to the floor, dodging the hex. With the elasticity of youth, she bounced right back up.

" _Furunculus!_ " she cried, but her aim was off, and the hex sailed over his shoulder.

" _Rictusempra!_ " he yelled, sending a jet of silver light at her, striking her in the chest.

Pansy began to shriek with giggles, and she dropped her wand, clutching her sides.

"Not! Fair!" she managed to say between giggles.

"Nice Tickling Charm," Millicent said admiringly.

"I picked it up at Malfoy Manor this summer."

"Father said it was a harmless spell that could be put to very effective use by a creative mind." Draco was proud.

"I think I win this round," Theo said, holding up Pansy's wand.

"You're really evil, you know," Tracy told him. "You know how ticklish she is."

Theo bowed mockingly to her. "Why do you think I used that specific charm? Strategy, Tracy, strategy."

"You should do the counter."

"I didn't learn the counter," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Draco, you know the counter for the Tickling Charm?"

"Nope."

"You mean we just have to wait for it to wear off?" Millicent was astounded.

"Unless she can look it up and cast it herself." Theo was unapologetic.

"Theo!" Millicent was obviously trying hard not to laugh. Daphne was failing miserably at that task for her part.

Tracy was leafing through the book. "Here it is," she said, and spoke the words. Pansy collapsed into an exhausted heap, still giggling, having quite lost control of herself. Slowly, her giggles began to fade away.

"All right," Draco said. "Daphne? Blaise? Your turn to show off."

Blaise gestured for Daphne to go first. She pointed her wand at Crabbe.

" _Furunculus!_ "

Harry was really starting to feel sorry for Crabbe as boils broke out over his face again. He supposed someone had to be the target. If they just cast at a stone wall, they wouldn't know if the spells were done properly.

They continued to practice their hexes and curses until just before curfew. Then they gathered up their things, took the last curses off of Goyle and Crabbe, and hustled for the safety of the dungeons.

Harry was feeling very satisfied. With a little work, he'd managed to cast all but two of the spells he'd tried. He'd done better than Daphne, who had only managed two spells. Poor Blaise Zabini couldn't do more than shoot sparks, no matter how many times he tried. Harry was very excited about Defence Against the Dark Arts and wondered how he was going to get any sleep.

They got inside their common room just as the bell tolled curfew. Now, only prefects and teachers were allowed to be outside of the dormitories. That didn't count the ghosts, of course. The ghosts still unnerved Harry. Watching them float right through walls was enough to make his bones shiver.

Harry was very tired and sought his bed. The others agreed with him. By the time he had changed into his pyjamas and laid down, his eyelids were very heavy indeed. He struggled to stay awake and participate in the conversation that Draco and Theo were having, but when the first thing he said was interrupted by a huge yawn, he gave it up and was asleep before he could hear the others wish him pleasant dreams.


	6. The Head of Slytherin House

Harry and his friends were awake bright and early, the first in the House to rise. They showered quickly before hurrying up to breakfast, eager to get the day started. Breakfast this morning was waffles, and Harry devoured a stack in short order.

Today the first years would once again be guided by their prefects, as they still didn't know the way to some of their classes. Their first lesson was Astronomy, which promised to be interesting, but it was Defence Against the Dark Arts that everyone was really excited about.

Jessica led them on the amazingly complex route up to the Astronomy Tower. The way involved ducking through two secret passages, doubling back once, and going out onto a walkway along the parapet before coming into the Tower proper. Harry did his best to take note of landmarks.

A professor with shoulder-length black hair was waiting for them. She was sitting at her desk and drinking coffee from her mug, which read 'Star Teacher' and had a silly-looking cartoon star-person on it. She waved the first years in as they climbed the staircase that opened up into the room. According to the clock, there were several minutes before the lecture began, and the professor showed no signs of starting early. Once they were all in the room, she had laid her head down on her arms and closed her eyes.

The Slytherins deposited their books at the desks and explored the room. The room took up the whole floor. The wall was rounded, one contiguous curve, and covered with huge star charts. There were no windows, so the room felt very dark. The lantern on the ceiling had been cunningly disguised as the sun.

Inspirational posters were scattered in the blank spaces on the wall. 'Reach For The Stars' read one. 'The Sky's The Limit' read another. 'Shoot For The Moon' said a third, with smaller print underneath reading, 'If You Miss, You'll Land Among The Stars'. Harry groaned because the puns were just so pathetic. Daphne was giggling.

The bell rang, and the professor raised her head and yawned. "My name is Professor Sinistra, and I will not bid you good morning, as I am a night owl. I have no idea why they asked me to teach at this ungodly hour."

The lesson was interesting. Professor Sinistra gave an overview of the course before she began lecturing about the major star constellations. They would be learning the names of the different stars and the movements of the planets. They would be required to study the night skies through their telescopes every Thursday night.

Professor Sinistra did not stand still during her lecture. She wandered all over the room, drinking from her coffee mug, which she refilled from her Thermos every time she passed her desk. She made great use of the star charts on the walls, pointing with a wooden metre-stick.

When the lesson was over, Abraham led them back into the castle via a shorter route to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. He asked them about the lesson as they walked. Harry was walking right next to him and happened to glance up.

"Is that lipstick?" he asked, interrupting Pansy, who was raving about the lecture.

Abraham blushed. "Maybe, but it's not mine, Harry, so it's all right."

The girls giggled; the boys looked slightly nauseated.

"Here we are," he said, stopping at a door. "Have fun." 

"I'm so excited," Theo said. "I hope Quirrell starts us in on spells right away." 

"I'd like to try that Leg-Locker Curse," Harry said agreeably. "Curfew rang before I could give it a go." 

"I'd rather we do something more challenging like the Full-Body Bond," Draco replied. 

"Is that the one you failed miserably at casting last night?" Theo interjected. 

"Shut up, Theo." 

"It's way too advanced for a beginner." 

"Look, you're not the only one who learned things as a child!" 

Theo stuck his nose in the text, ignoring them all. 

Pansy, for once, didn't have a smart-mouthed comment. She, Tracy, and Daphne were still too busy giggling at the lipstick Abraham had smudged on his face to pay the boys any mind.

Millicent turned to Harry and rolled her eyes. "Those two are so girlish. They're forever on about robes and fashion and make-up. I couldn't care less. Give me an old set of comfortable robes, and I'm happy."

"G-good a-a-aftern-noon, S-s-s-slytherin first years," Professor Quirrell stammered, opening the door for them. They took their seats, thrilled to be actually starting "the good stuff", as Theo put it.

Professor Quirrell's class turned out to be a bad joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic. (They heard later on that the garlic was to ward off a Romanian vampire that the professor was afraid would track him down.) His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed him. Millicent asked to hear the story, but he stammered something about it not being very interesting and began babbling about the atrocities Dark wizards had caused over the ages. His turban also had a funny smell about it, and Daphne insisted that it too was stuffed with garlic, leaving them all in stitches as soon as they got out of earshot of the classroom.

After lunch they had another Charms class, and Professor Flitwick awarded five points to Slytherin when Harry was able to correctly demonstrate how to hold his wand for casting charms.

That was their last class of the day, so they decided to relax before dinner, to save the studying for that evening. Harry joined in a game of Exploding Snap, managing not to burn himself at all. Theo cut out of the game early to read some more from the Potions text, and Harry was considering doing the same when Jessica and Abraham came by to ask about their second day. Harry definitely appreciated that they were so diligent to their duties. He liked that Slytherin House looked after their own.

Dinner was uneventful, but a surprise awaited them back in the common room. Professor Snape was seated in a chair by the fire talking with Peter von Erickson and Molly Archer, the seventh year prefects. They ceased their conversation immediately when the first years came down the stairs.

"Excellent, they're all here," Peter said, counting noses.

"First years, in case you don't know, this is Professor Snape. He is Head of Slytherin House and Potions Master." Molly's introduction fairly rang with her regard for the man.

"Thank you, Miss Archer," said Professor Snape, his voice quiet. He rose to his feet.

"First years, I welcome you to Slytherin House. I hope by now you've settled in, made yourselves comfortable. I hope you're learning to trust in your prefects. They are here to help you, as am I. If you have a problem you feel is too serious, too big for the prefects to handle, I hope you'll come to me with it. My door is always open to you, and I will always help you."

Professor Snape's voice was not passionate, but his tone was very serious. No one could doubt that he meant what he was saying.

"I know you've been informed of the unofficial rules of Slytherin House. I trust you will follow them. We encourage you to think here, and to make informed decisions. Please insure that you have a good reason for doing the things that you do. Those who act without thinking will suffer the full brunt of my sarcastic wrath. Those who embarrass Slytherin House will suffer a fate worse than death. Those who embarrass me personally will be tied to a chair and forced to watch Muggle religious television."

Harry, who had actually seen Muggle religious television, tried to suppress a snigger of amusement. What a horrible threat!

Snape's eyes flashed to Harry's face. They seemed to burn directly into his soul.

"Something funny, Mister Potter?" There was absolutely no love in that tone of voice.

"No, sir," Harry said quickly. "It's just that I've seen Muggle religious programmes on the telly before. That's an awful thing to threaten someone with, sir."

Snape's eyes continued to burn into his skull.

"That's all I have for now. I encourage you all to be a credit to Slytherin House. I will see you bright and early tomorrow morning. Good night."

"Good night, sir!" they chorused as Snape rose and left the room.

"Well, that was interesting," Harry said once the first years had all sat down near the fireplace.

"He certainly seemed to dislike you, Harry," Tracy said, her voice puzzled.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"When do we have Flying Class?" Millicent asked, changing the subject. "I want to get on a broom again."

"They haven't said yet," Theo replied, and the conversation drifted to flying, brooms, and Quidditch.

Harry listened for a time, but pulled out his Potions text when Pansy and Theo got into a row about a match last season in which the Holyhead Harpies lost to the Pride of Portree. He couldn't focus on the book, however. His mind kept drifting back to the wonderful changes that had come into his life. It was very overwhelming if one actually thought about it, but Harry wouldn't trade a lick of it away.

By Jove, the castle was immense! Between the constantly-changing staircases, people in the portraits wandering around, and the coats of armour that seemed to walk around on their own, Harry despaired of ever fully learning his way around. As if getting lost on their own wasn't a big enough problem, there was also Peeves the Poltergeist. Abraham and Jessica had warned them all that Peeves was absolutely not to be trusted. 

"Did you hear about Terry?" Theo said. "He asked Peeves for directions yesterday afternoon and ran into two locked doors and a trick staircase. He was late to Transfiguration and got a first-class dressing down from old McGonagall."

"He pelted the second year Hufflepuffs with water balloons this morning," Millie said. "I saw one of their prefects casting a Drying Charm on them."

Peeves was a general menace, but he was thankfully very afraid of the Bloody Baron, Slytherin's resident ghost, and tended to leave the Slytherins alone. Harry wished the Baron could scare the caretaker, Argus Filch, as easily. It was widely rumoured through the school that the old man was a Squib, something Draco and Theo shuddered when talking about. His greatest delight was catching students out of bounds and threatening to hang them by their thumbs in the dungeons.

Despite being a magicless Squib, Filch had a familiar, a scrawny, dust-coloured cat called Mrs. Norris. She even looked like him, with bulging, lamplike eyes. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later.

"Did you hear about Weasley and Longbottom?" Pansy said. "Filch caught them trying to force the door on the third floor corridor."

"The one that's out of bounds?" Harry asked.

"Yes. They claimed they were lost."

"What was their punishment?"

"Detention. Filch wanted to hang them up by their thumbs."

Draco laughed. "Too bad Dumbledore discontinued the old ways."

The hour grew late, and Harry eventually got some studying done. All the first years knew that in the morning they would have double Potions together with Gryffindor House. The rivalry between the houses was such that Draco and Tracy had mandated being extremely well-prepared for lecture. Jessica and Abraham had warned them that Professor Snape loved to ask questions, and you didn't want to get a question wrong in front of the enemy.

Harry had done extremely well to date, so far as he could see. With the help and encouragement of his friends, he'd already cast a number of spells. Several of those spells had come from chapters in the books that they wouldn't get to in class for weeks. That he took to magic like a fish to water was a bit alarming, but Hagrid had said that his Mum and Dad had been very magical. They'd been Head Boy and Girl, after all, and that meant great talent. Magic was in his blood.

The hour grew later still, and Draco was yawning wide enough for Tracy, who was sitting next to him, to fall in. Draco shut his book with a thud and got to his feet.

"That's enough. I'm going to bed. If he asks me what aconite is good for, I'll just make something up."

"It's considered deadly poison," Harry said, trying to restrain a yawn himself.

"Yes, because too many peasants tried to become doctors and killed a bunch of folk a long time ago." Theo's voice was smug. He knew more about herbs and their properties than any of them.

"I don't care," Draco said, walking towards their room. "I'll tell him to ask Theo or Harry." He yawned again, loudly.

They all looked at each other, each trying to hold it back. Then Millicent could suppress it no longer and yawned, stretching to the ceiling. Nothing else would do but for the rest of them to break as well. Yawning is contagious, after all.

"Bed," Harry agreed, gathering his things.

Worn out by his second full day filled with magic, Harry was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Friday morning came soon enough, and everyone hurried through their morning shower. They rushed upstairs to the Great Hall and ate as quickly as polite manners would allow. They did not speak, not wanting to take valuable time away from chewing. They intended to be ready and waiting for the Gryffindors. It seemed almost sadistic, letting the two houses antagonize each other all through the week and finally putting them together on Friday morning, ruining the weekend for whoever came off worse in the confrontation.

Harry was just spooning the last of his porridge into his mouth when a bit of folded parchment dropped into his bowl. He looked up to see one of the school owls winging away. He swallowed his mouthful and unfolded the note. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

 

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with a school owl.

Hagrid  
  
---  
  
 

Concerned with getting to Potions on time, Harry stuffed the note into his schoolbag. Across the table, Theo was frantically flipping the pages of Magical Draughts and Potions, looking for something. Everyone else was wiping their mouths or picking up schoolbags.

"Time to shine," Tracy said, smiling cheerfully as they made their way back down into the dungeons.

"We should be able to have breakfast in the common room on Fridays," Draco groused.

It was colder in the Potions classroom than up in the castle proper. It was colder than the Slytherin common room, for the fires there never stopped burning. Fortunately, as they walked the dungeons more than other students, they acclimated to it more readily than the shivering Gryffindors.

The laboratory was quite interesting, if creepy, with pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Instead of desks, there were solid stone work benches lined in an orderly manner that had places for two students.

Tracy neatly elbowed Draco out of the way when he started to sit down next to Harry. She smiled sweetly up at him, and Draco stomped back one row to sit behind Harry, glaring at Tracy with a highly indignant manner. Pansy sat next to him, and Theo sat with Blaise. Millicent teamed up with Daphne, leaving Crabbe and Goyle to partner.

Professor Snape had not yet arrived, so Harry investigated the work space while they waited. Cupboards with shelves were built into the bottom of each bench. A pair of drawers contained tools such as thermometers, glass stirring rods, and hot pads. An iron rod was embedded in the stone, and several adjustable clamps were connected to it. Black scorch marks marred the benchtop.

In addition to their own basic supplies of potion ingredients, there was a rack of ingredients for student use at the back of the room. Each student had to record what he was taking, how much of it he was taking, and what potion he was making. It was strictly regulated to encourage students to purchase their own ingredients.

The door slammed, and everybody jumped in their seats. Professor Snape strode purposefully down the aisle to his desk in the front of the room.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or funny words spoken in this class," he declared, his voice powerful. He reached the front and turned to face them, his robes whipping around him.

"Though you will hardly believe that it is magic, potionmaking is also a subtle science and an exact art," he continued, his voice dropping low, but they caught every word. Like McGonagall, Professor Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses." He slowly folded his arms across his chest. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death. That is, if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

That all sounded tremendously interesting to Harry. Potions seemed to be quite exciting, and Harry found himself looking forward to the first lesson. He glanced sideways at Tracy, and was paying rapt attention. All of the Slytherins looked eager; the Gryffindors seemed nervous.

"Well, well," Professor Snape said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new _celebrity_."

Harry gulped. His suspicion that Snape didn't like him appeared to be correct. His palms began to sweat as Snape stared at him. Ron Weasley sniggered behind his hand. Snape paid him no attention; maybe he hadn't noticed. His eyes were again boring straight into Harry's skull.

"Tell me, Mister Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

He'd studied that! He didn't remember reading about such a potion in the text, but he knew both of those herbs from his reading for Herbology. They were both powerful sleep agents.

"A good long nap, sir?" he said respectfully.

Snape's eyes stopped their intense glare. His face became unreadable. "Quite right, Mister Potter. In a roundabout way, I suppose. Together they form a sleeping potion so powerful that it is known as the Draught of Living Death."

Harry drew a slow breath and let it out. He'd gotten it right. His relief was almost palpable.

Snape's eyes became hard again. "What is the difference, Mister Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Now that was being unfair. Two questions? Weasley was shaking with laughter at Harry being singled out. Harry struggled to recall. He suddenly felt very warm and had to fight down a stab of panic. He knew those names. Draco had said something about them right at the end of the night. No, that had been-!

"They're the same thing, sir. Also known as aconite."

Once again, Snape's face was unreadable. "Very good, Mister Potter. Ten points to Slytherin."

Harry took a long breath and wiped clammy hands on his robes. He'd gotten it right again. Being put on the spot by a teacher had always been stressful in Muggle school, and it appeared Hogwarts was no different. He realized that he would have to study very hard to catch up with his friends.

"Mister Potter knows what you all should know. Anyone who did not know the answers, had better write it down," Professor Snape said, his last words becoming clipped and obnoxious.

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Harry set up his inkwell and prepared to take notes. He already knew that he would have to be diligent in this class. Professor Snape's unexpected challenge proved the necessity beyond a shadow of a doubt. The man had high standards, and Harry was eager to prove he could measure up.

"Now, let us continue. Weasley! Where may one discover a bezoar?"

The red-haired boy had been laughing while Harry was on the spot. Harry didn't feel like pushing his luck to return the favour.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before attending class, is that it, Weasley?"

"No, sir."

"You were able to afford the required text?"

Draco snickered. Harry wished he were near enough to shush him.

"Yes, sir," Weasley said through grinding teeth.

"And what prevented you from reading it?"

"I was reading for Charms."

"And what did you learn?"

Weasley didn't answer. A flush was creeping up his neck.

"I see. Professor Flitwick will be very disappointed. Five points from Gryffindor for not being prepared for class."

Draco snickered again.

"Finnigan, what is the proper volume to fill a size two cauldron?"

"I dunno know, sir. _To_ volume?"

Snape stared at the Irish boy for a long moment. A muscle in his cheek twitched.

"One point from Gryffindor for cheek, Finnigan. Anyone? Yes, Mister Nott?"

"Two-thirds, sir."

"Correct. Five points to Slytherin, and five from Gryffindor. Goyle! How many porqupine quills are needed for the Potion to Cure Boils?"

"Four, sir?"

"Wrong! Crabbe?"

"Six?"

"More wrong! The correct answer is two. I do hope you at least know your numbers before coming to my class. Parkinson, how many portions of snake fangs does the potion need?"

"Six, sir."

"Correct. Zabini, how do you prepare the fangs?"

"They must be powdered, sir. Mortar and pestle."

"Ten points to Slytherin. How much of the nettles is required? Patil?"

"Three, sir?"

"A lucky guess. What temperature do we brew this potion at? Brown?"

"One hundred, sir?"

"Idiot girl," Snape snarled. "Water doesn't even boil at a hundred. Five points from Gryffindor."

Snape wasn't even bothering to lecture. He seemed determined to find out who had prepared for class and who had not. After covering every aspect of the potion, he finally let them begin.

"Very well. Open your books to page three and begin. You should have more than enough time to prepare this potion if you do not make any mistakes."

Harry looked at Tracy. "Let's get to work."

"Right. You start with the snake fangs. We want them powdered. I'll weigh the nettles and get the water boiling."

Harry had to experiment to find a good grip on the pestle and mortar. The fangs were harder to crush than he'd thought.

"Is this good enough?"

"Yes, I think so."

Tracy had their potion bubbling happily, so Harry added six portions of the powdered fangs. She quickly added the dried nettles.

"Now we wait," Tracy said.

Professor Snape swept around in his long black cloak while they worked, watching over their shoulders.

"Show more care with the fangs, Thomas. Those aren't nearly crushed enough. That's not enough nettles, Brown. Balance your scales before weighing. Those flames aren't high enough, Golding. It will never boil at that rate."

When he paused to peer into Harry's cauldron, he said nothing. Harry was grateful for that. Snape made him rather nervous. He moved on to Draco and Pansy's bench.

"This is nearly perfect, Mister Malfoy, Miss Parkinson. Class, observe this cauldron. This is precisely how the horned slugs should look. You can add them to the potion now, Mister Malfoy."

A loud hissing sound suddenly filled the dungeon, and clouds of acid green smoke began pouring out of Neville Longbottom's cauldron. The whole thing had melted into a twisted blob, and the potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Longbottom, who had been drenched in the hot potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in agony as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Longbottom whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. He was barely recognizable, and Harry felt sorry for him.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Finnigan, who was Longbottom's partner. Then he rounded on Weasley and Thomas, who had been working next to Longbottom.

"Weasley! Thomas! Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? You thought such an obvious mistake would make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That'll be five points from Gryffindor."

Thomas opened his mouth to protest, but they could see Weasley kick him. "Let it lie," he muttered.

When they climbed out of the dungeon two hours later, Harry's stomach was rumbling, and his spirits were bright. His studying had paid off and he'd earned points for Slytherin. Professor Snape had been plainly impressed with Harry's preparedness for class, and his obvious dislike was replaced by a grudging sort of acknowledgement that Harry might not be a complete dunderhead after all.

As they relaxed their way through lunch, Harry suddenly remembered the note from Hagrid.

"Anyone know how to get up to the Owlery?" he asked.

"You can borrow Arlette," Draco volunteered. "Shall I show you up myself? Who are you writing to, anyway?"

"Hagrid invited me down for tea."

There was a sudden silence around the table.

"Do you intend to go?" Theo asked, his voice artlessly careless.

Harry heard the seriousness behind the casual tone. "Hagrid was the one who rescued me from those Muggles," he reminded his friends. "For that alone, he deserves my goodwill."

They mulled over that.

"Harry is right," Tracy said in his support. "No matter what Hagrid may be, what he may have done, and what he may do, he is the one who gave Harry the truth about his heritage. We should be grateful to him for bringing Harry back where he belongs."

Theo scowled. "I suppose you're right."

"Technically," Pansy sniffed, "but he never should have left, I think. Blame Dumbledore the Muggle Lover for thinking Muggles could properly raise a wizard."

There was much agreement.

"We're a bit off-track," Harry noted. "Should I go to tea?"

There was a mixture of yeas and nays.

"Oh pish on you all," Millicent said, waving her hand dismissively. "If you want to go, Harry, I'll go with you. If nothing else I can remind you of a study session we have to go to."

Company. Harry was glad for it. "All right," he said. "Draco, can I still borrow Arlette?"

"I said you could borrow her, didn't I?" he sighed, his voice having been one of the nays. "If he seems to be drunk, you should leave," he cautioned.

"It's the middle of the day," Harry said, shocked.

"So?" Theo was derisive. "The inside of the tavern is always dark," he said, sounding like he was quoting from somewhere.

"I won't stay long," Harry promised. "I want to practice that match-needle transfiguration some more."

"Shall we work on our hexes some more after dinner?" Tracy was asking as Harry and Millicent made their way up to the Owlery.

"What do you think of classes so far?" he asked. "Professor Snape really is something else."

"Yeah. I think I'm going to like Potions. I'm amused that it's tied so close to Herbology. I hope I'm good at them both."

"What's your least favourite?"

"Definitely History, but that's no surprise. I think Astronomy is pretty boring. Best is definitely Charms."

"And you got that matchstick to go silver," Harry reminded her. "I could use some help with it."

"Sure. What about you?"

"I like Potions. I hope I don't cross old McGonagall."

"The firm hope of many, I'm sure."

"So Tracy and Draco both have siblings," Harry said curiously. "What about you? Any brothers or sisters?"

"Both, actually. I'm the oldest of four. My annoying little brother Arcen will be starting next year. You can have full permission to thrash him if he gets on your nerves. Blanche and Dena won't be first years until after I finish school. They're just babies."

"I've never been around babies."

"They're loud sometimes. They're not very interesting. Mum and Dad are all sorts of silly over them."

"Tell me about your parents. I've met the Malfoys. I'd like to meet your parents some day."

"Daddy works in the Ministry. He's the Assistant Head of the Beast Division. He says it's a fairly easy job. He doesn't really need to work, being from old money. He just likes to get out of the house to avoid the chaos of Mum's job. She's a highly respected fashion expert."

"Fashion?"

"Yes. Her opinions are sought by witches from all over the world. It's ironic, really. Mum's so into it, and I couldn't care less. She's finally given up trying to get me to put on a dress."

As they clumped up the steps to the Owlery, Harry stopped in his tracks. There were owls everywhere! Every type, every size, every colour, every age. Eccidemas, Millie's barn owl, came swooping down to perch on her shoulder, nipping at her head affectionately. Arlette, recognizing Harry, swooped in for some attention as well.

"Hey girl," Harry said, scratching her head. "Draco said I could borrow you to send a letter."

Arlette drew herself up proudly. She stuck out her leg and hooted with pleasure. Arlette was proud of being a magical post owl and took pride in carrying out her responsibilities.

Harry quickly scrawled an acceptance of Hagrid's invitation and held it out to the owl. "Just carry this down to Hagrid's hut and give it to him. You don't need to wait for a reply."

She grasped the parchment firmly in her beak and winged away, out from the belfry and across the castle grounds.

"Success," Millie grinned at him. "Come on, we can waste some time before tea."

Wasting time turned out to mean exploring, and they gathered up Tracy, Draco, and Crabbe before roaming the corridors.

At five to three Harry and Millie left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang, back!"

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"'ang on," he said. "Back, Fang!"

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt on it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Millie and began licking her face.

"This is Millicent," Harry introduced her. Millie was giggling and teasing Fang, the two playing together on the floor.

Hagrid poured boiling water from the kettle into a large teapot. The teapot stood next to a large plate of cookies that looked remarkably like rocks.

"I hope yer keepin' yer head on straight in that nest o' serpents, lad," Hagrid began.

"I've made some good friends," Harry said, not wanting to have a fight about Draco Malfoy again.

"You jest make sure ye keep yerself on the straight an' narrah," Hagrid huffed. "How're them classes?"

Together, Millie and Harry told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang was enjoying cuddling with Millie, and she apparently liked the great tub of pudding.

As Hagrid started ranting about Filch, "that old git," and how he wanted to introduce Mrs. Norris to Fang, Harry noticed a clipping from the Daily Prophet on the table:

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

Diagon Alley, London: Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringott's spokesgoblin this afternoon.  
  
---  
  
The date of 31 July rolled around in Harry's head. "Hagrid!" he said, interrupting Millie, who was telling him about her younger brother Arcen.

"That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might have happened while we were there!"

Hagrid refused to meet Harry's eyes. He grunted.

"It's important business, no doubt. Best to keep out of it," he muttered, offering them more cookies. "Keep yer nose clean."

Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

The conversation died out, and Millie stood up. "Thank you for tea, Mister Hagrid, but we have a study session to get to before dinner."

"Aw'right then, get on yer way. Don't wanna keep ye from yer studies. Work hard, will ye?"

They promised that they would do so and left the hut, Millie scratching Fang one last time behind the ears.

"There's something going on," he said to Millie as they walked back up to the castle. "Hagrid knows something about that break-in and he's not talking."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the temperature scale, I want to assure you that I have not made any mistake. The UK does indeed use Celsius, but only in the Muggle world. The Celsius temperature scale was invented in 1742 by Anders Celsius where 0 was the BP of water and 100 was the FP. Jean-Pierre Christin developed the modern form in 1743, but it was not adopted by the UK until 1965 and it wasn't finalized until 1973. The wizarding world is several hundred years behind the Muggle world in cultural terms. Muggles use biros and lined paper. Wizards are still using quill pens, inkwells, and parchment, and paper came to Europe in the 13th century! Snape grew up in a mixed magical-Muggle household. While it can be argued what temperature scale Tobias Snape would have used, it's a fairly safe bet that Eileen Prince worked exclusively with Fahrenheit. Additionally, the Potions textbook would almost certainly use Fahrenheit (or some other undefined scale). It also makes sense given the strange units that wizards use for money. 17 Sickles in a Galleon and 29 Knuts in a Sickle are very odd, so wizards using a logical scale like Celsius is incongruous.


	7. Duelling and Discovery

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but Ron Weasley was quickly moving up on his mental list. Harry had been the target of Weasley's vulgar invective every time the groups of Slytherins and Gryffindors collided. The names that Weasley called everyone in Harry's circle were always some variant on evil, slimy git. Weasley wasn't very creative when it came to insults, but Theo had been giving him excellent tutelage over the weekend.

It was impossible that Weasley could have something against Harry personally; they didn't even know each other. The nasty words and blatant lies Weasley spewed were apparently justified by nothing more than Harry's House. It was completely irrational to him that Weasley should dislike Harry simply because he belonged to Slytherin.

Draco and Weasley had disliked each other from their first meeting. Harry could see that each held the other in extreme contempt. Usually it was the two of them trading barbed jibes, but sometimes Harry was the target as well. Harry wished the red-haired boy would stop being such a git.

At least first-year Slytherins only had Potions with the Gryffindors, so they wouldn't have to put up with Weasley's contemptuous treatment much. At least they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Slytherin common room that everyone got very excited about. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday. Slytherin and Gryffindor would be learning together.

"I can't wait to get out there and show Weasley what a wizard can do on a proper broom, not some thrice handed-down stick with half the twigs missing like he's got," Draco drawled, practically bouncing with anticipation. Harry, on the other hand, was feeling sick to his stomach. The last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself in front of Weasley, Finnigan, and the rest of those Gryffindor gits. He was deathly afraid of embarrassing Slytherin House. Professor Snape's threats still resounded in his mind.

"Wonderful," he said dryly. "Just what I need to do, make an arse of myself on a broom in front of Gryffindor."

"You'll do fine," Draco said dismissively. "Did I tell you about the time this summer when I was flying through the wood near the Manor and almost got spotted by a Muggle whirly-bird?"

"Yes!" Theo said, highly exasperated. Draco had told the story many times over the weekend. The boy was very excited about getting back on a broom and couldn't keep a thought in his head for more than a minute before the broom brushed it back out again.

Draco had been vocal all weekend. He'd complained about first years not being able to have brooms, never getting on the house Quidditch teams. He seemed to have an endless collection of boastful stories about flying.

He certainly wasn't alone, though. Finnigan had apparently spent from the ages of six to eleven zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Weasley insisted he'd almost hit a hang glider while riding his brother Charlie's old broom (Draco had asked him how he'd caught up to the hang glider riding an antique broom, to the Slytherins' vast amusement).

Millie was nearly as eager as Draco. When she'd first read the notice, she'd stopped dead in her tracks and stared at the parchment. Her jaw had dropped slightly and a glazed look had come over her eyes and face. "Broom," she had whispered reverently. "I get to fly a broom again.

Theo had controlled himself a little bit better, and Pansy had managed to keep her wits about her. She was just as eager as the rest, though. Tracy had been appropriately enthusiastic. Daphne and Blaise had been very excited. Crabbe and Goyle had merely smiled and nodded their heads approvingly. Everyone was looking forward to it except Harry.

One couldn't prepare for flying on a broom by reading a book or by practising in an unused classroom. He was almost frantic; he'd read Quidditch Through The Ages a bunch of times looking for hints. His friends had all assured him that he'd do fine. Hrmph! Easy for them to say.

Thursday morning came all too soon for Harry. He'd been very busy with schoolwork and hadn't noticed the days speeding past. He'd added a handful of new spells to his repertoire and had managed to get the matchstick to turn into a silver toothpick.

The post always came during breakfast, but Harry never paid attention. He never got anything from anybody. All of his friends had no need to write to him. Draco's mother sent up boxes of sweets twice a week, which he always shared. Tracy's mother had sent everyone a loaf of homemade bread with a crock of fresh churned butter only the previous day.

This morning, there was a bit of a hub-bub at the Gryffindor table. Harry glanced over and saw Longbottom holding a glass ball of some kind.

"Let's check it out," said Draco, always eager for a chance to irritate the Gryffindors. Harry got to his feet and ambled in that direction, walking next to Draco, and with Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind.

"What you got there, Longbottom?" Draco said, his customary drawl firmly in place. He snatched the glass ball out of Longbottom's chubby hand.

"Blimey, it's a Rememberall, Harry!" Draco exclaimed. "Longbottom's gotten so absent-minded he has to have someone else remember things for him."

Weasley and Finnigan had jumped to their feet. Finnigan cracked his knuckles, clearly eager to fight. Thomas got up from his seat and stepped closer.

Draco smirked as McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, came up behind her charges. "What's going on here?" she asked, her tones clipped, no-nonsense.

"Malfoy's got Neville's Rememberall, Professor," Weasley said quickly, tattling.

"I only wanted to get a good look at it," Draco said innocently. "That's all right, isn't it Longbottom?"

Draco was looking down at Longbottom, so Professor McGonagall missed the malicious gleam in his eyes.

"Y-yes, q-quite all right," Longbottom stammered.

Draco made a show of carefully examining the Rememberall while the Gryffindor boys fumed. Then he handed it back to Longbottom, being quite careful. "Thanks Longbottom. You know, that ball is as full of smoke as your head is."

"Mister Malfoy!" Oh no, he'd angered Professor McGonagall. "Five points from Slytherin for such disrespect."

"Yes Professor," Draco said, still being the perfect gentleman, and gestured with his head to Crabbe and Goyle, before slouching off.

"You prat, you lost us points!" Harry was upset.

Draco waved his hand. "Five points is nothing. I'll make it up tomorrow in Potions. Did you see how scared Longbottom was? I think they changed the Gryffindor mascot from a lion to a chicken."

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, all the Slytherin first-years hurried through the corridors to the open courtyard for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched across the lawns.

Eighteen broomsticks were laying in two neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard from some of the older students that the school brooms were practically worthless. Some of them got the shakes at high altitude, and others had a constant pull to one side.

Harry sat down on the grass and stretched out. The sun felt wonderful on his face, and he yawned widely. A person could almost nap out here.

Before he could nod off, the Gryffindors arrived, shortly followed by their flying instructor. Madam Hooch had short, grey hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broom. If you're right-handed, stand on the left, otherwise switch. Come on, hurry up!"

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Hold your wand hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once. He looked up, grinning, and saw that all of the rest of his friends were holding their brooms as well. Crabbe's was hovering a foot or so off the ground, while Goyle had smacked himself across the shins.

The Gryffindors were having their troubles. Weasley had whacked himself in the nose, and Draco, standing across from him, was laughing at him. Longbottom's broom hadn't moved a bit. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid. There was a note in Longbottom's voice that clearly said he wished to keep his feet on the solid ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Much to Draco's chagrin, she told him he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," she said. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle- three, two-"

But Longbottom, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - four metres - eight metres! Harry could see that his face was ghostly white. Longbottom was petrified. He gasped as the ground fell away, slipped sideways off the broom, and-

WHAM! There was a thud and a nasty crack, and Longbottom lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch rushed over to the boy's side. Her face was nearly as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy, it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear."

Longbottom, clutching his wrist and with tears rolling down his chubby cheeks, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into a gut-laugh. Theo added a snicker.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

Harry couldn't help himself. While it was a tragic accident, it appeared that Longbottom was going to be all right. It was a good object lesson.

"Evidently no one told Hooch that Longbottom was going to be her demonstration of what not to do," he said, chuckling.

"Shut up, Potter!" snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy jeered. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Well, look here," Draco said, suddenly leaning forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Rememberall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

Weasley glanced around quickly. Almost even odds out here, and not a teacher in sight.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Weasley demanded.

Everybody stopped talking to watch.

Draco ignored Weasley, turned to Harry. "Fancy a game of Keep Away, Harry?" he asked, picking up his broom.

_A harmless game of Keep Away? Why not? It would be pretty mean to do this to Longbottom, but anything to irritate Weasley._

"Sure," he said, picking up his own broom.

"Malfoy!" shouted Weasley as he lunged for the Rememberall in Draco's hand.

Draco hopped onto his broom and rose into the air, above Weasley's head. Harry instinctively jumped on his own broom and kicked off.

"Well, Weasley? Are you wizard enough to face me up here?" Draco shouted down derisively.

Weasley's face turned very ugly. He mounted his own broom and rose, shakily, into the sky.

Draco hadn't been lying or boasting. He could fly well, and he proved it, neatly dodging Weasley's attempts to seize the Rememberall.

"Here, Harry, catch!" Draco said, tossing the glass globe behind his back and in Harry's direction.

Harry caught it, executing a barrel roll. Wow, how had he done that?! He heard gasps from below him, from Slytherins and Gryffindors alike. He could see the Patil girl holding Finnigan back from joining them in the sky. As Weasley rushed at him, Harry tossed the ball back to Draco.

"Hey Weasley, you want this? Go get it!" Draco cocked his arm and whipped it forward, flinging the Rememberall as hard as he could.

Weasley stared after the hurtling object with regret and rage all across his face. "You bastard!" he shouted, flying at Draco again. He missed as Draco dodged nimbly, and he sank back down to the ground looking both furious and defeated.

Harry gasped when Draco threw the ball. That was going too far. He hunched over his broom and zoomed along the ground, looking to intercept the ball before it shattered against the castle wall or the stone walkway. Harry wasn't thinking. All he knew was that if he let such an important possession get damaged, they'd lose points for Slytherin, and probably get detention as well. Totally focused on the glittering globe that was falling from the sky, he zoomed right past a tall, black-robed figure.

Reaching out his hand, he wrapped his fingers around the cool glass, tucking it in close, and bringing himself around quickly. He set his course back towards the others, but sank to the ground and began shaking in fear when he saw Professor Snape standing in the open corridor with his arms crossed, looking very annoyed.

"Mister Potter, just what do you think you are doing?"

Harry swallowed hard. "Well, sir, you see, we were playing a bit of catch with Longbottom's glass ball here, and it got thrown a little bit too hard. I went after it because I didn't want his property to be damaged. We could have lost points, sir."

Professor Snape's face was unreadable. "Give it here, Misterr Potter. I will make sure it gets back to Longbottom. You'd best get back to the others, and stay off that broom!"

Harry nodded, shouldered his broom, and went trotting back to the rest of the students. He didn't look back and didn't see Professor Snape staring after him.

Before anyone could say anything, though, Madam Hooch returned. She picked up the lesson where she'd left off, and everyone was zooming around quite readily when class ended.

"Line your brooms up back where you found them," she directed them. "I'll see you all tomorrow."

As soon as they got away from the Gryffindors, the Slytherins clustered around Harry. Draco, Theo, Millie, Pansy, and Tracy were nearest, with Blaise, Daphne, Crabbe, and Goyle leaning in.

"What was that?" Tracy asked, her voice trembling. "Where did you learn to fly like that?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but no words came to mind.

"Isn't it obvious?" Millie said, practically drooling. "It's in his bloomin' blood! That sort of talent isn't something you can learn. Oh, we've got to talk to Professor Snape and get Harry on the house team."

"The house team?" Harry said, alarmed. "But first years aren't allowed."

"What position?" Draco asked.

"Seeker, duh." Theo's face was getting animated. "That stupid glass ball was almost like a Snitch."

"Terence Higgs is the starting Seeker!" Pansy protested.

"He was only the reserve last year," Millie said. "The starting Seeker finished school and if we can get Harry permission to try-out, he'd get it for sure!" Millie was paying no attention to where she was walking and nearly fell into a shrub.

"How will being reserve be any good?" Draco asked, bewilderment clear in his voice.

"Terence will have to defend his position since he wasn't the starting Seeker last year," Theo answered. "That's how they do try-outs."

"So if Harry beats Terence to the Snitch, he gets to be Seeker?" asked Tracy.

"We've got to talk to Professor Snape," Millie reiterated, leading the way up the path, into the Front Hall of the castle, down the marble staircase, down the stone stairways to the dungeons.

"I don't think we'll all fit," Draco said, looking at Crabbe and Goyle particularly. "Blaise? Daphne? Could I possibly inflict these two on you for an undetermined span of time?"

Blaise opened his mouth to protest, but Daphne elbowed him in the side. "It's a big responsibility, but if we're the only ones who can do it right, then we must do it. Good speed on your mission, and Merlin grant that you return with good news."

"Thanks, Daphne," Harry said gratefully.

The six Slytherins hurried on to Snape's office.

"Professor Snape?" Millie said, knocking on the door.

"Come," Snape's voice rang out.

Millie opened the door and she practically dragged Harry to Professor Snape's desk. Draco, Theo, Tracy, and the others came in as much as they could.

Snape eyed them shrewdly. "How may I help you?"

"Sir, Harry just did amazing things with a broom!" Millie exclaimed.

"I'm fully aware of Mister Potter's broomstick handling," Snape replied. "Indeed, he does have my permission to try out for the house team."

Harry felt his jaw drop. Professor Snape had done a complete reversal. At first he'd have sworn that the man hated him, then it had become indifference, then respect, and now Snape was doing him a favour.

"How'd you know, sir?" Draco asked.

"I happened to be standing in a corridor adjoining the courtyard during the incident, Mister Malfoy. Mister Potter, I will notify Marcus Flint, the team captain, and he will provide you with information about the try-outs. I hope you appreciate the fact that first-years normally are not allowed to try-out."

"Yes sir, thank you sir." Harry's head was spinning, and all he wanted to do was lay down and rest.

The trip back through the dungeons to the Slytherin common room was a blur to Harry. When he came to himself, he was sitting in one of the padded, high-backed chairs at a table near the fire, staring into the flames.

He looked up and saw Draco and Theo working on their Potions homework. Crabbe and Goyle were comparing notes on Astronomy. The girls had gone to the library, he remembered now. His own Potions notes and text were open in front of him.

"Yuck," he said. "I don't want to be thinking about this stuff right before dinner."

He closed his book and opened up Quidditch Through The Ages. Usually the lightest and faster fliers...

* * *

"Give me Neville's Rememberall, Potter." Weasley's voice was hard and unfriendly.

Harry swallowed his mouthful of roast beef and turned to see Weasley and Finnigan standing behind him, unfriendly scowls across their faces.

"I don't have it, Weasley. Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to eat dinner." Harry put another forkful of mashers into his mouth.

Weasley's face grew even more ugly. "I said give it up, Potter."

"What are you, deaf?" Draco snapped. "He told you he doesn't have it. Piss off."

"Shut up, Malfoy. I wasn't talking to you."

"Well I'm talking to you, Weasley. You're outnumbered over here, so I recommend you leave."

"And if I don't?" Weasley asked belligerently.

Draco stood up. "Then I guess I'm just going to have to correct your attitude problem."

Weasley glared at Draco, Harry nearly forgotten. "Any time," he said invitingly.

"Tonight then, if you want. Wands only, no contact."

"Fine."

"In the trophy room; it's always unlocked. Midnight. Finnigan going to be your second?"

"You bet I will," Finnigan said, speaking for the first time, his Irish accent snappy. "Who's yours?"

"Potter, of course," Draco smirked.

It might have been Harry's imagination, but a flicker of uncertainty might have flashed across Weasley's face.

"Fine. Midnight then."

And then they were gone.

"What was all that about?" Harry asked, puzzled.

Draco looked chagrined for a moment. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry. You don't know. Bugger. Umm, okay, Weasley and I are going to have a wizard's duel."

"What's that?"

"It's a formal way of settling disputes. You'll be my second, which means you take over if I die." Draco noted the look of horror that crossed Harry's face. "Never fear. As if some worthless Muggle-loving git like Weasley could kill a Malfoy!"

"But you could get hurt!" Harry protested.

"Nonsense," Draco said, waving the question away.

"You'd better make sure you can cast a Shielding Charm," Theo said, having heard everything.

"As if Weasley has anywhere near my skills," Draco scoffed.

Theo frowned. "Don't get overconfident, Draco. He might have a few surprises for you. Maybe we ought to go with you."

Draco was shaking his head. "No," he said. "How would that look? I told Weasley that it would just be me and Harry tonight. I can't go back on my word, not about something like this. There's honour involved here."

"He's right," Tracy said, leaning over to their huddled conversation. "If anyone else shows up, the terms for the duel are invalid, and you certainly don't want that to happen."

"Right," agreed Draco. "I want to hex him till his own mother won't recognize him."

"We should get some more work in on our casting," Harry suggested.

Draco nodded. "Yes, definitely a good idea. Then we should take a quick nap to recharge. Now I should eat more food, yes."

He hunched over his plate and began to fork carrots into his mouth, barely pausing to chew.

Harry couldn't continue eating. The succulent slices of roast beef that he had taken grew cold. A wizard's duel. Bloody heck, even if he was only a second, this wasn't good. He hadn't been raised a wizard; he knew nothing about these things.

Tracy, sitting at his left, leaned over. "What's wrong," she whispered.

"Nerves," he whispered back.

"You'll do fine," she assured him. "Draco can take care of himself. All you have to do is stand around and look pretty."

Harry grinned despite himself.

"Trust me, Harry, this isn't a big deal. I think it'll be very educational for you."

"You mean I get to see how proper wizards do things?"

Tracy nodded. "And you get to watch Draco wipe the floor with the Weasel."

As soon as politely possible, Harry, Draco, Pansy, Tracy, Millie, and Theo all left the table and hurried to the classroom that they had been using for practising their spells. Theo took a bit of chalk and marked two places on the floor.

"That look about right?" he asked.

Draco barely glanced at the marks. "Fine," he said. "Who am I practising against?"

Theo looked around at the others. "I guess that would be me," he said, sighing.

"If you don't want to, Theo, I'll do it," Millie volunteered.

He shook his head. "No, I need the practice too."

Draco and Theo squared off, wands at the ready. Each took a duelling posture.

"Three, two, one, go!" shouted Tracy.

" _Aegis vocare!_ " Theo cast a Shielding Charm as Draco pointed his wand and cast his own spell.

Back and forth the two cast their spells, dodging, ducking, and occasionally connecting. Draco fell victim to the Leg-Locker Curse and took several nasty hexes before he could remove it. Theo exulted in his momentary victory, and that led to his downfall when he was caught unawares and could not escape the Jelly-Legs Jinx.

"Bugger!" he shouted, falling down.

"I win!" Draco said, smirking triumphantly.

"Like hell," Theo said, pointing his wand from the floor and casting the Tickling Charm.

Draco dropped his wand as he clutched his sides, laughing uncontrollably.

"Enough," Harry said, stepping between them. He performed the counter for the charm on Draco and helped Theo to his feet.

"Impressive, boys," Millie said, clapping her hands.

"Thank you," gasped Draco, wheezing for breath.

"I'd say you're more than ready to take on Weasley," Tracy said admiringly. "There's no way he could know even half of those spells. He certainly won't be able to think fast enough to do the reversals."

"Let's hope so," Harry said. "How does a proper duel end?"

Tracy took his arm as they left the classroom and made their way down to the dungeons.

"It depends on how serious the dispute is," she said. "If it's really serious it can be to the death. Then the second will take over, but usually it's just till one wizard disarms the others. If a wizard loses hold of his wand, then the duel is over."

"But what then?" Harry asked.

She blinked. "Well, I suppose the loser has to apologize. There's usually specific terms laid out before the duel begins."

Harry fretted. "I don't know enough about this to be a proper second," he said, wringing his hands.

"Don't worry about it," Tracy reassured him. "Draco knows what he's doing. He won't let you make any mistakes."

When they got back to the common room, Harry and Draco immediately went to bed. They would need to be awake and full of vigour to do their best. Draco especially needed to replenish his magical energies after the practising he'd been doing. Despite Harry's worries, he fell asleep almost immediately. The next thing he knew, Theo was shaking him awake.

"C'mon, Harry, time to go defend Slytherin pride."

Harry nodded groggily and stumbled to the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face. The shock of it snapped him awake instantly. He returned to the dorm and found Draco awake as well, double-checking that his wand was still secure.

The two boys nodded at each other, not speaking.

"Good luck," Theo grunted, finally free to seek his own bed.

They were silent as they walked the corridors and made their way up the stairs to the third floor where the trophy room was.

Weasley and Finnigan weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Draco held his wand in his left hand, tapping it nervously against his palm. The minutes crept by.

"Where is that git?" Harry asked, impatient to have it done with so he could go back to bed.

Draco checked his watch. "He's late. Maybe he's too much of a coward?"

Harry was about to respond, but a noise in the next room made him freeze. He drew his own wand.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

Filch! Mrs. Norris! They'd been betrayed! Horror-struck, Harry grabbed Draco's arm and dragged him towards the door. They had barely got out into the corridor when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

Harry gestured to Draco, leading the way down the hall. Pale as a sheet, Draco followed him down a long gallery full of suits of armour. They could hear Filch getting nearer.

"Ah hah!" they heard him shout with glee. "Footprints in the dust!"

"Oh no," Harry moaned. "Run!"

The pair sprinted down the gallery, not looking back. They swung around the doorpost and dashed down one corridor then another. Harry was in front, no idea where he was or where he was going. They ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which he knew was miles away from the trophy room.

They stopped, gasping for breath. "That was close," Draco wheezed.

"Too close," agreed Harry. "How'd he know we'd be there?"

"Weasley," Draco hissed. "That git went tattling. I'll fix him."

"Never mind that right now," Harry said. "We've got to get back to the dorm before we get caught."

"How?" Draco asked as they walked down the corridor. "I'm so lost, I couldn't tell you which direction down is."

"The Charms classroom is right over there," Harry said, pointing. "We just-"

Peeves popped out into the corridor, making them jump. "What for you are wandering around at midnight?!" he said loudly.

"Peeves, shut up!" hissed Draco. "You'll get us caught!"

"Oh, la di da di!" Peeves cackled.

"We'll get the Baron after you," Harry hissed, furious and scared. "How would you like that?"

Peeves sneered at them. "Don't care. Shouldn't be making threats, Ickle Firsties. Mouths getting ahead of you. Let me help your problem!"

Harry tried to duck away as Peeves lunged at him with a pair of dirty socks. "Eew!"

Draco had managed to get around Peeves and Harry dashed under the poltergeist. Together they ran for the end of the corridor.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

"Oh, we're in for it now," moaned Draco as they ran for their lives. At the end of the corridor, Harry reached for the door to push it open and slammed into it, hard. The breath was knocked from his body as Draco crashed full into Harry's back.

"Open the door," Draco cried, tugging at the knob. Together they pushed and pulled. It was locked and refused to open.

"We're done for," Harry said, nearing a state of panic.

In only seconds Filch would be on them. Harry forced himself to stop panicking. Resolutely he pushed his panic to the back of his mind. Millie had been telling him about an Unlocking Charm yesterday. What were the bloody words!

" _Alohomora!_ " he said, praying for the spell to work.

A jet of white light shot from the end of his wand into the lock. Draco quickly pulled the door open and they ducked inside, slamming the door shut behind them. They leaned up against the walls in relief.

"Bugger, that was too close." Draco was shaking. Too many panic attacks in too short a timeframe.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying, his voice barely audible through the thick door. "Quick, tell me now!"

"Say 'please,'" the poltergeist sassed him.

"Which way did they go, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying sing-song voice.

"All right- please!"

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" They heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks the door is locked," Harry whispered. "If we just stay here we should be f-" He broke off in mid-sentence, his eyes bugging out of his head.

"D-Do you like dogs?" Harry asked, his voice trembling.

"They're all right," Draco answered, raising one eyebrow. "Odd sort of question at the moment, isn't it?"

"Not really," Harry said, pointing a finger up behind Draco's head, way up tall.

Harry was quite sure he'd walked into a nightmare. On top of everything else that had happened tonight, he just couldn't take this sort of shock.

They stood not in a classroom, as Harry had supposed, but instead in the forbidden third-floor corridor. Now he knew why it was forbidden; now he knew why Dumbledore had promised a fearsome and horrifying death.

Draco turned around and let out a slight whimper as he stared up into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that. There was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob. Given the choice between being caught by Filch and dying a most painful and horrifying death, he chose Filch.

They fell backwards, Harry slamming the door closed, and they ran, almost flew, back to the safety of the dungeons. Filch must have hurried off to look for them elsewhere, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared. All they wanted to do was put as much space between them and that monster as possible. They didn't stop running until they reached the blank stone wall that concealed the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Shaking, nearly crying from sheer stress, they collapsed on the floor in front of the fire.

"What in the name of the Founders is a beast like that doing in a school filled with children?" Draco demanded, his voice shaking. He had lost his normally cool demeanour and appeared on the verge of a breakdown.

"That's much too big to be a watchdog," Harry attempted to joke, but his joke started the cogs turning in his own brain. Watchdog; guard dog; guard; treasure; vault; the Gringotts break-in! Hagrid had said that the only place more secure than Gringotts was Hogwarts itself. It was tenuous logic at best, but it did seem to fit.

He'd deduced where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen had gone to.


	8. Friends Who Stick Together

After their night of chases, terror, and panic, Harry and Draco fell into bed completely exhausted. Still scared beyond reason, they were asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows. When Theo shook him awake six hours later, Harry just did not want to get up.

"Harry, none of that," Theo scolded, as Harry tried to roll over and pull the covers over his head. Harry replied with an unintelligible grunt, much like the ones Goyle and Crabbe often made.

Theo stepped back and took stock of the situation. He summoned Crabbe over to assist.

"Grab him," Theo ordered. "Goyle, you grab Draco. We have to get these two awake and to class on time."

Harry vaguely felt powerful hands latch onto his pyjamas. Then the warm covers were pulled away, and cold air shot down his neck. He whimpered and reached for the blankets, trying to get back to the warm, cozy haven that was his bed.

Though he was not aware of it, Crabbe practically dragged him down the hall and into the bathroom where Theo already had the showers running. Theo pointed to the two stalls, indicating for the two boys to put their burdens under the spray of water, and checked his watch, frowning.

Harry came awake with a gasp as water was suddenly cascading on his head. He sucked in a mouthful of it and started choking, spitting it back out into the drain. Blearily, he leaned back and looked out of the stall where Theo stood with his arms crossed, looking at his watch, and tapping his foot impatiently.

"Let's go. You two already missed breakfast. Bathe."

Harry fumbled for the soap and began to wash, only to realize that he was still wearing his pyjamas. He groaned and began unbuttoning them, chucking each sopping piece out onto the tile floor.

Ten minutes later, clean and with his hair freshly washed (although still very wild), Harry stepped out of the stall and took the towel that Theo held out for him. He went to the sink and began brushing his teeth.

"Let's go, Draco," Theo snapped, highly irritated.

"I'm conditioning," Draco's voice came back, drifting out of the stall along with the steam. "My hair is high maintenance."

"Your head is going to need maintenance if you take any longer, because I'm going to have Crabbe put his fist through it. We're going to be late for Potions!"

"Almost done," Draco sighed. Two minutes later the shower was off and Draco reached for his towel.

"C'mon, back to the room, hurry!"

Harry and Draco quick-stepped it back to the dorm and pulled on their uniforms and robes. Despite only having Potions today, they made sure to take their wands. Harry picked up his school bag and the Slytherin boys hurried off to their classroom.

No sooner had Harry sat down next to Tracy than Professor Snape stalked in, an unhappy scowl across his face. "Weasley!" he barked. "Have you figured out where a bezoar can be found yet? You've had all week."

Weasley, who'd been whispering something to Finnigan, jumped and flushed slightly. "No sir, sorry sir."

"Five points from Gryffindor for being grossly unprepared for class," the Potions Master snapped.

The class went on without further incident as they reviewed the steps for properly brewing a Forgetfulness Potion. Harry was bleary throughout the lecture, and despite having missed breakfast, the ingredients list was enough to kill his hunger. Though he was still very tired, Harry and Tracy managed to turn out a respectable potion, and Professor Snape praised both of them, saving a flask of it.

"Next week I want a roll of parchment from each of you detailing the-" Professor Snape broke off what he'd been going to say and stopped in his tracks. He swooped down like a striking hawk and seemed to snatch something up off the floor. He held out his hand to the Gryffindors, the Rememberall glittering in his palm.

"This belongs to you, Longbottom, does it not?"

"Y-y-yessir," Longbottom said, barely able to get the words out.

"Keep better track of your possessions and don't leave them in my classroom. Five points from Gryffindor."

Professor Snape carelessly tossed the Rememberall in Longbottom's general direction, and Parvati Patil, his partner, barely caught it for him. Weasley's face was bright red. He was clearly furious.

Harry was stunned. Longbottom hadn't dropped the ball in the dungeons; he'd lost it in the courtyard during Flying lessons. Professor Snape knew it! Were teachers allowed to lie like that?

His mouth must have been hanging open, because Tracy tapped him under the chin. "Hush up," she whispered. "We'll talk about it later."

Snape assigned their homework and then left the classroom, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving the first year students still in the midst of cleaning up. Most of the Gryffindors finished up quickly. The Slytherin girls hurried off, and Blaise didn't wait for the others.

"I'll see you all later. I want to go send an owl home to mother."

Harry, Draco, and Theo were filing out of the room when Harry felt a shove from behind that propelled him into the wall.

"Hey!" he said, turning around. There stood Weasley and Finnigan. They looked like they were itching for a fight.

"Longbottom didn't lose his Rememberall in this dungeon, Potter," Weasley spat. "You told me yesterday that you didn't have it, you liar."

"And he was telling the truth, Weasley," Draco drawled, reaching casually for his wand.

Harry's fatigue had evaporated. "You didn't believe me anyway, Weasley," he said, his pulse increasing. He could feel the adrenaline rush come on him as his body prepared itself for fight or flight.

"Why should I believe a lying, sneaking Slytherin?" Weasley sneered at him.

Harry felt his own temper start to rise. If there was one thing Harry had hated about living at Privet Drive (above all the things he had hated), it was being called a liar whenever he told the Dursleys that he didn't know how strange things kept happening around him. Whether it was how the glass at the zoo had disappeared or his hair's insistence that it didn't want to be cut, Harry's protestations had always been met with cries of "Liar!" To hear Weasley echoing that false accusation was maddening.

"Shut up, Weasley," Theo snapped. "They kept their word last night. You never showed."

"Quite right," Draco continued. "You could have found out just how honourable Slytherins are if you hadn't chickened out of the duel. You obviously don't know the first thing about wizardly honour. Tell me truly: Did you go tattling to Filch right after dinner or did you tell that rule-spouting wanker of a brother?"

Weasley went red again and went for his wand, but found one in his face before he could get his hand halfway there. Weasley froze. Harry had him dead center. Theo kept a close guard on Finnigan, who was looking very nervous.

Draco leaned in close. "Now let's get one thing clear, Weasley: you are inferior. You're almost as inferior as the Muggles your family loves so much. I don't know why you're here and not in some public school. Do you know that Muggles can go to school for free, Weasley? Books belong to the school and are loaned out to the students. Wouldn't that be nice, Weasley? Your parents could have sent all, what, twenty of you? Could have sent all of their grubby little spawn to Muggle school.

"I know you were afraid to duel me last night. That's why you tattled to Filch. Well we don't like tattlers, do we lads?"

"No," Harry and Theo said firmly.

"That's not how it was!" Finnigan protested.

"We got caught by McGonagall!" Weasley echoed.

"And you were so scared you spilled everything to her?" Theo sneered. "Is that the famed Gryffindor courage?"

Draco smiled nastily. "I don't believe you," he said, throwing Weasley's words back in his face. "So, as payback for snitching, you're going to get all the hexes you would have gotten last night, but this time, you don't even get the dignity of fighting back."

As if on cue, Crabbe and Goyle, who'd been cleaning up the last of their spilled potion, came out of the classroom and grabbed Weasley and Finnigan from behind.

"In the classroom," Draco directed. The two Gryffindors were dragged inside. The Slytherins filed in orderly.

"Lock the door," Draco ordered.

" _Aromohola!_ " Theo said firmly, sending a jet of black light into the lock. He pulled on it twice, but it stayed shut.

"You can't do this, Malfoy!" Weasley shouted angrily, struggling against Crabbe's iron grip.

"You should have kept your word, Weasley. Now not only do you have to suffer, but your friend does as well."

"Now wait just a second here," Finnigan protested.

Draco pointed his wand and cast his favourite hex, " _Furunculus!_ "

Harry was fuming with anger. Weasley had called Harry a liar, insulted his House, and set him up to get in trouble. Dudley Dursley was no longer the person Harry hated most; that honour was reserved now for Ronald Weasley. He was aching to cast some hexes of his own at Weasley, but Draco was casting for all he was worth. It would be enough.

The next few minutes were not pleasant for Weasley and Finnigan. Held firmly by Crabbe and Goyle, they couldn't fight back or even dodge the hexes and jinxes that Draco cast at them. Their cries of pain, which they'd made an effort to hold back at first, echoed loudly off the stone walls.

Draco hit Finnigan with about a half-dozen hexes. Weasley took a full dozen before another Boils Hex fizzled out before reaching him. Draco's next two spells also failed to materialize. Breathing heavy, sweat glistening off his brow, his usually neatly combed hair nearly as untidy as Harry's normally was, Draco staggered and nearly fell. Weasley and Finnigan were allowed to collapse on the floor, crying.

"Next time you should keep your word, Weasley," Draco said in gasps, spitting on the boy. He turned back to his friends. "Let's get out of here. I'm knackered."

He led the way out through the open door where they came to a sudden halt. Professor Snape was standing in the corridor, arms crossed, and looking very imposing.

"S-sir," Draco stammered.

Snape said nothing, keeping the pressure on. They continued to sweat. Harry was panicking inside, sure that this meant detention, or even expulsion.

"All in all a neat bit of work, Mister Malfoy," Snape finally said, "but you might want to pick a different room next time. I'll deal with those two. You lot get out of here."

He swept past them into the classroom and slammed the door shut.

The boys looked at each other. With one mind, they dashed back to the common room and began to laugh.

"I-I-I," Harry said, trying to control himself. "I thought we were dead for sure."

"What happened?" Tracy looked very concerned.

"Weasley tried to start trouble," Draco began, "and failed utterly at it." He couldn't keep talking for his laughter.

Theo picked up the tale. "We dragged him and Finnigan back into the Potions classroom, and Draco gave them all the hexes they deserved."

Theo laughed so hard he fell out of his chair and onto the floor, kicking his feet weakly. Tracy began laughing at him.

Harry chimed in. "It didn't take more than a few minutes, but when we left, Snape was watching us."

"Oh boy," Millie said. "Did you get in any trouble?"

"Not a whit," he replied. "I thought it would be detention and lots of points for sure."

"Preposterous," Tracy said, still shaking with glee. "Professor Snape would never betray his own like that. You know he despises Gryffindors as an axiom."

"Say that again," Draco wheezed. "In plain English this time."

Between their relief at knowing that Professor Snape was truly looking out for them and Tracy's continued usage of grown-up words, even in the current situation, the Slytherins couldn't control themselves. It was a clear incident of mass hysteria.

When they had all recovered from their manic laughter, they put their books away and hurried up to the Great Hall for lunch. Harry remembered that he had some interesting news to share, but it was not the sort of thing that should be discussed in the open. He was impatient throughout lunch, quickly eating his fill and then waiting for everyone else to finish.

Back in the common room, he cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him.

"There's something extremely valuable being kept here in Hogwarts," he began. "Whatever used to be kept in vault seven-thirteen at Gringotts is now here at school and there's a three-headed dog guarding it."

"We accidentally hid in the forbidden third-floor corridor last night while running from Filch," Draco contributed. "Huge monstrous beast, it was, straight out of Greek myth."

"I'm sure that it was Hagrid who emptied that vault at Gringotts. He took me there before we went to my vault. It was this little thing, about five or six centimeters long, wrapped in brown paper. He told me I shouldn't mention it to anyone, that it was secret Hogwarts business."

"Hagrid did seem very evasive when we asked him about the article from the Daily Prophet," Millie said, her voice curious.

"And he said that the only place safer than Gringotts was Hogwarts itself. The presence of that dog only confirms it. We've got something extremely valuable here." Harry was pleased that he'd made such a brilliant argument.

"Or it could be dangerous," Draco pointed out. "One never knows about these things."

"It could be anything," Theo said, stifling a yawn. "I imagine there's any number of magic rings in the world."

"But how can a simple magic ring justify a great, slobbering, giant dog?" Draco pressed.

"I don't know," Theo admitted, "but I do know that we could speculate for weeks and still not come up with the answer."

"We need more clues," Harry decided.

"And just how are you going to get them?" Pansy asked derisively. "They're not going to just go telling students what it's all about, especially not first year students like us."

"We'll go hunting around," Harry said. "Aside from being scared half to death, that three-headed dog was quite an adventure."

"Adventure," Daphne said, sniffing. "Nearly getting killed doesn't qualify as fun in my book."

"It was rather over the top," Draco admitted. "I could do with a little less deadly of an adventure next time, though."

Any further discussion was cut off as Marcus Flint, a sixth year student and captain of the house Quidditch team, came up and sat down. Marcus was not a handsome boy, and that was being polite. He looked as though his grandmother had dallied with a troll. He had a high, sloping forehead, beady little eyes, and crooked teeth.

"Sorry to burst in," he said cheerfully, "but Professor Snape's just told me about Harry's little broom adventure. So you want to try out for the team, do you Harry?"

"Yes, quite," Harry said, dreams of Quidditch glory filling his mind.

"Well you look to have the right build for a Seeker," Flint said, still cheerful. "We're doing trials next weekend, so get yourself a top-notch broom. You certainly can't do it with a school stick."

"I will," Harry promised.

"Good! Glad we had this little chat. Do carry on. Cheerio," Flint said, getting to his feet and ambling off.

"Congratulations, Harry!" Millie said, shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"You're going to get on the team," Pansy said, sing-songing her voice. "And we're going to destroy the other houses."

Harry grinned. "I just want to fly again."

Everyone nodded, understanding the lure of the open sky.

"Bugger, we've got to get to the courtyard!" Millie exclaimed. "We've got Flying lessons!"

There was a general stampede for the door.

* * *

After lessons (lor it had felt good to be in the air again), Harry went up to the Owlery with Draco. He had to get his order off to the Nimbus Racing Broom Company so that he could have the broom for the trials next week. Draco was being kind enough to loan him Arlette for the posting. Harry was quickly coming to see the advantages of owning one's own owl.

When the order had been sent on its way, there was nothing else to do until dinner. Harry didn't feel like studying, nor did he want to play games with the others. Excusing himself, he went to get his cloak for a walk out on the battlements. Some fresh air would do him plenty of good, and it'd been several days since he'd seen the sun properly. (In the morning while trying to dress and prepare for class didn't count.)

When he got into the hall, though, someone was waiting for him.

"You shouldn't go wandering by yourself, you know," Tracy told him, gesturing for him to walk next to her.

"Why's that?" he said, falling into step with her.

"Alone, you make an easy target."

That statement was rather profound, and they walked in silence.

Tracy was an interesting person, no doubt about it. She didn't feel the need to fill the silence with random conversation. Instead she was content to merely spend time with someone.

"Why'd you follow me, Tracy?" he asked curiously.

"Because you're my friend," she said with sincerity. "When someone wants to go off and be by himself, it usually means there's something wrong."

There was certainly truth to that.

"Friends are good for talking to about stuff like that. We listen, we care, we want to help. So if you want to talk, Harry, I'm here to listen and help if I can."

Harry didn't answer immediately. The words he wanted to say were tricky. He couldn't think of exactly the right phrasing.

"I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed by everything," he said finally. "I've been doing real well with magic, thanks to my friends helping me," he added, "and that takes some getting used to. Yesterday I found out that I've got a gift for flying, and now I get to try out for the house team, which other people don't get to do. Everybody knows my name, but I'm being judged for simple things like the house I'm in. I've never had friends before, and you're all so wonderful. I'm scared that I'm going to wake up and it'll all have been just a glorious dream."

They stopped walking and Tracy looked deep into his face. Then she hugged him. Startled, Harry was about to protest. Then he realized that it felt nice. Hugging wasn't something he ever did. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon certainly didn't inspire hugs. Dudley would rather pound on him.

Hesitantly, he hugged Tracy back. He tried not to squeeze too hard; he didn't want to hurt her. She kept her arms locked tight around him, holding on as if for dear life. Finally she released him.

"There, now did that feel like a dream?" she asked.

He grinned. "No, it felt very real. Thank you."

"Welcome. Anytime you want a hug, you just let me know."

Harry kept smiling. "I will."

"I know this has been arduous for you," she said, continuing down the hall. "You've told us a bit, but I still can't imagine what it must have been like to live with Muggles, waking up to their stupid hatred every morning. It's remarkable that you're as normal as you are."

"I'm certain they're not all bad," Harry said. "Out of the billions of them, there's got to be a few who aren't stupid and cruel like the Dursleys and those awful children I knew at school."

Tracy nodded. "Not all wizards are wonderful either, but we've got a darned sight better ratio than Muggles do."

"I never met a nice Muggle," Harry mused, "but that doesn't mean there aren't any. Just because Muggles have been mean to me doesn't mean it's right to be cruel to others."

"You're talking about Granger, right?"

Harry nodded. "And all the rest of the Muggleborns and the Muggle-lovers too."

"Pretty titanic issue to deal with, isn't it?"

He nodded again, silently.

"I know it must seem that we speak without thinking, that we hate without understanding why, but that's just not the way it is. Muggleborn wizards almost caused our entire culture to be destroyed hundreds of years ago. There was a war going on, and these Muggleborns got involved because they had kin who were fighting. They started using magic, Muggles saw them, and the panic was nearly the end of us all. Memory Charms hadn't been invented yet, so there was nothing for it. Those wizards were assassinated, and eventually enough people were killed in battle that those who survived were considered insane. It was a very scary time, so the stories say. Muggleborns cannot be trusted."

"Surely they've evolved since then," Harry protested.

Tracy smiled sadly at him. "Ever pick up and read a Muggle newspaper, Harry? It's full of murder, rape, and other atrocities. On any given day, a Muggle newspaper is a testament of man's inhumanity to man."

"You know my mother was Muggleborn," Harry said, a little desperate for some ground to stand on.

She shrugged. "I'm not saying that all of them are bad, but almost every one is more or less just like Granger. Harry, answer me this question: How does Granger act? Be honest, now."

The Slytherins shared History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs, so Harry saw Granger firsthand. He thought hard, sifting through his memories. "She's such a know-it-all," he sighed, realizing that he was losing this debate.

Tracy nodded. "She's also bossy and uncouth. She doesn't understand that there's more to magic than just saying funny words. All that she will ever know is magic by rote, by memorization, by the book. She'll never understand that magic is an Art. A pure-blooded wizard, one who understands his magic, can take his wand, wave it around, and make whatever he can envision come to pass."

They had slowed to a halt during this conversation, and now they began to walk again. "It's good that you're not just agreeing with what the people around you believe. I think it's really sweet that you're ready to believe the best about people, but before too much longer that innocence will fade. I wish it could be different, but sooner or later you'll see that we're right. And until it happens, you need to know that we're not going to stop being your friends. Just because you don't agree one hundred per cent with our opinions doesn't mean we don't like you."

"Friends can disagree?" Harry's tone was hopeful. He liked his friends and was very scared to lose them. He never wanted to go back to being an outcast again.

Tracy laughed lightly. "Of course! Theo and Pansy fight constantly, but they'll stand together against anyone. All of us will, no matter what. We've all been good friends since we were old enough to understand what the word meant.

"There are others we know who were part of the girls' etiquette lessons, like Mandy Brocklehurst and the Patil twins. We played quite a lot with Terry Boot but weren't as close to him. Mandy and Padma absolutely belong in Ravenclaw, but it was just the whim of the Hat that put Parvati in Gryffindor, which I would never have expected. Terry? It was probably family destiny that put him in Ravenclaw."

"That's what you said at the Sorting," Harry replied.

She nodded. "All of his family have been Ravenclaws, all the way back to the Founders.

"Crabbe and Goyle didn't share our tutors, so Draco's the only one who was really good friends with them before Hogwarts. It was good fortune that put Daphne and Blaise with us, and double good fortune that we met you as well. You're one of us now, just as surely as if you'd known us these ten years past."

"It feels good to belong," Harry smiled as he opened the door out onto the battlements, holding it open for Tracy. She smiled back at him and stepped outside.

"Thank you, Harry. You have wonderful manners."

He shrugged and smiled winsomely.

The view from the battlements was breathtaking. The sun was perched above the horizon, almost ready to begin setting. The sky was filled with fiery oranges, reds, and purples. A few bright stars could be seen twinkling in the dusk. A flowing breeze lifted their robes and sent the fabric flapping around.

"So are you feeling better?" Tracy asked him.

Harry nodded. "Yes, very much. I've been so scared to speak up because I thought you wouldn't want to be friends with me if I disagreed with you so severely."

"Friendship isn't that fragile, Harry. True friendships can last a lifetime and can survive anything."

He mused on that as they watched the sunset together.

"You know, you don't sound like any eleven year old I've ever met." It wasn't just the big words she used; Tracy sounded far too mature for her age.

She laughed. "You're not the first to say that. Jamie always tells me that I think too much. She's just mad because every time we get into a debate, she loses."

When at last there was no light left in the sky, they went back inside the castle and made for the Great Hall.

"I'm so hungry," Harry said, feeling his stomach rumble.

"Oh, you boys are all alike," she laughed. "Always hungry. Has anyone told you about the time when Draco ate six blueberry pies?"

* * *

Weasley and Finnigan were conspicuous by their absence at dinner. It wasn't until Terry Boot had come over to the Slytherin table to join them for afters that they knew why. Terry told them that Mandy Brocklehurst had heard from Padma Patil who had heard from her twin sister Parvati who had said that Weasley and Finnigan had been caught dueling in the Potions classroom by Professor Snape and given detention.

"After all," Terry said gleefully, "they were covered with hex marks. Snape said that they'd had some sort of disagreement during class and had obviously decided to settle it in their own way."

Draco had been laughing since he'd first heard the word detention. As word spread down the table, laughter ranging from chuckles to muffled shrieks to gut-laughs erupted. A few heads turned to look over at their table, obviously wondering if the Slytherins were all insane. By contrast, the Gryffindor table was somewhat subdued; smoldering anger at just about everything was almost palpable.

Harry sat silently, not really certain how he felt about this latest development. He looked over at Tracy, who was giggling. All of his friends were laughing.

Weasley had started things off by going out of his way to insult Slytherins, a little voice in the back of his mind told him. He'd never even spoken to Harry before he'd begun his bashing. Just that Harry was in Slytherin was enough for Weasley to dislike him. Slytherins didn't like Muggleborns and Muggle-lovers, but they didn't try to say that Muggles were evil, just cruel and stupid. Tracy had given some very logical, very well-reasoned arguments, whereas all Weasley could do was insult them. When it came down to it, who was the more prejudiced?

Weasley had called him a liar, the little voice continued. He had no proof, but had called Harry a liar anyway and was completely unwilling to listen to the truth. That hurt a lot. Though he was used to the Dursleys calling him a liar (and lots of other horrible names!) this was a boy his own age, a boy he could have been friends with if he'd given Harry a chance. If Weasley wanted to be a right bastard, then let him reap what he had sown.

So Harry laughed, allowed himself to find amusement in the misfortunes of someone who had made himself into Harry's enemy. Tracy raised an eyebrow in his direction, but then smiled and continued giggling.

All of the Slytherins were in a good mood as the Great Hall cleared of students. Harry saw Elan speaking with Percy Weasley, one of Gryffindor's prefects. Though Harry couldn't hear what was being said, Elan was clearly taking a jab at Percy through his younger brother's actions. Percy grew stony-faced and snapped something back before sweeping past Elan in a pompous manner.

It was Friday night, with no classes for the morning, so Harry stayed up late with his friends. They played Exploding Snap in the common room, talked about Quidditch, and avoided all discussion of magic or classes. Crabbe told several funny jokes, which amazed Harry since the larger boy seemed to be pretty slow. Draco amused everyone by depicting a probable scene when Weasley and Finnigan had been found by Professor Snape. Tracy passed out home-baked cookies sent up by her Mum. It felt good to just relax and enjoy the company of his friends.

When they finally did seek their beds, Harry was yawning every two seconds and could barely see his way. Draco had hold of one arm, Theo the other, and the three were staggering like drunkards for their dorm.

He was almost instantly asleep. Extremely tired, his mind conjured up fearful spectres to haunt his dreams. He was chasing a man made up of shadows, who was in turn chasing a glowing point of red light. There was a desperate fear filling him, a fear of the dark man catching the light, and Harry came awake with a frightened gasp.

He lay still, or tried to. His whole body was shaking, trembling with fear. He couldn't recall what had frightened him so badly, try though he might. All that he could dredge up was a sensation of darkness creeping over him, a feeling of dread. Frustrated at not remembering, he threw himself back into his pillow. Sleep would not come back to him tonight. He reached up and pulled open his curtains, turned on his side, and lay watching the moon rise above the tree-line through their big window. When the sun began to bleed the sky of darkness, Harry was still awake, still trying to remember his dream.


	9. Quidditch Anyone?

The next morning at breakfast, Harry was surly and out-of-sorts. He knew he was in a bad mood, so he did his best to stay out of any and all conversations. His friends, however, were determined to drag out whatever was bothering him and wave it around in the light for a little bit. When he would have sequestered himself away in the library and poured over his classwork, Draco and Theo took him firmly in hand and led him out into the morning sunshine of the courtyard.

"Something's wrong," Draco said bluntly. "Care to tell your friends what's got you in such a foul mood today?"

"It's nothing important," Harry said, trying to avoid discussing his dream, something he didn't even understand himself.

"Bollocks," Theo replied. "You said almost nothing at breakfast and didn't eat hardly a thing. Something's put you in a bad mood, and it's our duty as your friends to cheer you up."

"Or help fix the problem," Draco interjected.

"I just didn't sleep well, that's all." Harry's voice was tired. Couldn't they see that he wanted to be by himself?

"Well I have something to pick your mood up anyway," Theo said, handing Harry a paper-wrapped box.

"What is it?" Harry asked, taking the package, curious despite his tiredness.

"Open it and see." Theo gave a credible imitation of Draco's trademark smirk.

Harry tore the paper off and opened the box. Inside were dozens of cards from packages of Chocolate Frogs!

"They're all those duplicates I said I hadn't got rid of yet. Now you've got a great start on your own collection."

It was such a generous gift that Harry was forced to smile. "Thanks Theo. You didn't have to, you know."

"Nonsense," came the reply. "What am I going to do with near to a hundred duplicate Chocolate Frog cards?"

"Trade them?"

"Almost nobody has cards that I don't," Theo said, managing not to sound braggy by a small margin. "There's only a few rare cards in the current series that I'm missing. I have better luck just finding them or by buying them outright."

Harry felt his mood lift a little. Still...

"Thanks for trying, mates, but I'd like to spend some time by myself."

"Are you sure?" Draco asked, very concerned. "Alone? That can be dangerous."

"So I've heard, but I'll deal with it. I know almost as many spells as you do right now. Besides, I doubt Weasley will want to give me trouble so soon after serving detention."

"True that, but with Gryffindors you never can tell. Watch your back, okay?"

"I will," Harry promised. "I'll see you at lunch."

Theo and Draco walked away, chattering animatedly about the Nimbus 2000. Harry lay on his back in the courtyard and stared up at the clouds in the sky.

Nobody tried to pick a fight with him, which was wonderful. A couple of times his fellow Slytherins came by to check that he was okay, but when he said he just wanted to relax a bit, they apologized for interrupting him and went on their way.

The morning sun was burning hot and bright, and the night's chill was all but a fading memory. The sunshine felt good on his face, and Harry wallowed in the warmth. It let him forget that autumn was coming soon, and they would all be trapped in the castle (or be risking frozen toes).

Clouds trailed across the blue sky, occasionally taking strange shapes. There was one that looked like Draco, another that looked like Millie. It was probably a trick of the light, but Harry swore he saw a cloud that looked like Professor Snape. That would have been fine, but then the wind shifted, and the cloudy Snape was kissing a cloudy McGonagall! Harry shook his head when he saw that, telling himself that he was overtired.

He closed his eyes, trying to eradicate the cloudy image from his mind. With soothing darkness, he was soon calm again. Without realizing it, Harry fell asleep.

The clanging of the bell woke him with a start, and from the way the sun had jumped in the sky, he realized it was noon and time for lunch. He got to his feet, brushing off grass and dirt from his robes.

In the Great Hall, students were just sitting down. He joined Draco, Theo, and the others, everyone giving him a greeting of some kind.

"Hello," he said, in a decidedly better mood.

"You look a little red," Tracy noted.

Harry reached up and put his hand on his cheek. True enough, his skin was slightly hot.

"I fell asleep in the courtyard after breakfast," he admitted sheepishly.

That admission drew amused chuckles and head shakes.

"Oh Harry," Tracy giggled, "you're so silly."

"Yeah, that's me, laugh riot central," Harry said sarcastically. "I'm working on a full lobster disguise, in case I ever need to hide among crustaceans."

More giggling followed. Then everyone's attention was drawn to a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as curious as everyone else, but his curiosity turned to amazement when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when a seventh owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harry immediately ripped open the letter.

 

Nimbus Racing Broom Company

Mr. H. Potter  
Hogwarts School

Dear Mr. Potter:

Here is your new Nimbus 2000, fresh off the product line! We at Nimbus thank you for your buisness and hope you will enjoy your broom for years to come. Enclosed find a copy of your warantee and service manual. Once again, we thank you for choosing Nimbus!

Regards,

Amber Cunningham

President, Sales Division  
  
---  
  
 

Harry was stunned at the speedy service.

"We just sent off the order yesterday," he whispered to Draco, showing him the letter.

"Must be because it was for Harry Potter," Draco said, his lip curling. "They must be trying to kiss a little arse."

"I have a little arse?" Harry said, deliberately misunderstanding.

Draco hit him lightly on the arm. "Don't be a prat. Let's get back to the dorm and check it out!"

"But I'm hungry!" Harry said truthfully. He was half-starved.

Draco made an unhappy noise and began to cram a sandwich into his mouth. Harry ignored the curious stares directed at the Slytherin table and calmly began eating.

When Harry had eaten more than was probably good for him, he picked up his new broom and headed for the dungeons, escorted by all his friends. Halfway across the entrance hall they found the stairs blocked by Weasley and his twin brothers.

"What've you got there, then?" Weasley asked, grabbing the package out of Harry's hands.

"None of your business, Weasley!" Theo spat, outraged at Weasley's rudeness and presumption. He drew his wand. "Give it back, or I'll hex you."

"That is a broomstick," Weasley said, ignoring Theo and throwing it back at Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "I thought as much. You'll be in for it now, Potter; first years aren't allowed them."

"Listen, Weasley," Harry began, his voice chilly, "nobody asked for your opinion. Now why don't you get out of our way? Or did you want to try dueling again? I hear you got into a spot of trouble the last time you dueled someone. Down in the dungeons, wasn't it?"

It was a cheap shot, but Harry couldn't resist. Who the heck did Weasley think he was anyway?

Weasley's face got red and ugly. "You know the truth of that as well as I do, Potter," he said, chewing his words angrily.

"So I do," Harry replied, "but you're outnumbered again."

"My brothers know more magic than you lot all put together," the younger Weasley boasted. Both of the twins nodded emphatically. Harry noticed that they were each keeping one hand out of sight.

Before Harry could retort, Professor Flitwick appeared on the scene. Short and squat, he only came up to Harry's chest, but he was still an authority figure.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Weasley quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor Snape told me about the special circumstances, Potter. Apparently you have quite the gift. What model is your broom, then?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the identical looks of horror and jealousy on the faces of all three Weasleys.

"Very good," the diminutive Professor Flitwick said cheerfully. "Well, do carry on."

Then he was gone.

"Tattling again, eh Weasley?" Draco said in the drawling tone he always used around Gryffindors.

"Apparently he didn't learn his lesson properly," Pansy said nastily.

"I think he needs a reminder," Theo chimed in.

The Slytherins smiled wickedly at the three Gryffindors.

"But later," Harry said. "After he's had time to think about things and realize what a big mistake he's made. Then if he wants to apologize, we can forget about the whole thing."

Faces burning, Weasley and his brothers moved out of the stairway. Ignoring the glares directed at them, the Slytherins made their way down the stairs and into the safety of the dungeons. Once they were beyond hearing range, they let their laughter loose.

"His face!" Theo gasped, wheezing.

"I thought he was going to die right there," Millie howled.

"And the twins!" Tracy was about to pass out.

They did finally make it to the common room, their laughter echoing off the stone walls the whole way. Everyone followed as Harry went to the boys' dorm. He undid the wrappings on his broom and it rolled out onto his bedspread.

"Wow!" they all exclaimed.

Harry had learned everything he knew about broomsticks from Draco. He thought this broom, the best in the world, to be a marvel. It was sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, a long tail of neat, straight twigs, and the Nimbus 2000 logo etched in gold near the top.

Marcus Flint knocked at the door.

"Afternoon, all. 'Lo Harry, I see your broom's arrived. Nimbus Two Thousand, excellent choice. Trials are to be next weekend, after luncheon, down on the Quidditch pitch."

Only a week away! "Thanks, Marcus," Harry said, excited.

"Cheerio!" Then he was gone.

"You're so lucky, Harry," Millie said, envy clear in her voice. "I'd give almost anything to have a chance to get on the team this year."

"I just want to fly some more," Harry replied.

Millie's face lit up as she got an idea. "What say the rest of us go nick some brooms and we can have a pick-up game?"

"Brilliant!" Theo exclaimed. "I don't want to be on Pansy's side."

"Lick my cauldron."

"Five to a side?" Crabbe asked.

"Amazing," Draco said with a slight sneer in his voice. "You do know your numbers."

"Shut up, Draco."

"Mind your tongue, fathead," Draco snapped.

"My head's not fat! And I'm bigger than you," Crabbe threw back. Draco made a rude gesture.

"To the Quidditch pitch!" Millie declared.

"No, first to the broom shed," Tracy corrected.

"Whatever."

Ten minutes later they were standing in the broom shed. Racks filled with brooms lined the walls of the single room, a mere three metres square. Dust covered most of them, except for the twenty or so which had been used by the Flying class.

"Ugh, a Cleansweep Two," Millie grimaced. "Those came out back in thirty-four. Is that a Comet One-Eighty?"

"Nineteen thirty-eight," Theo replied.

"Jackpot!" Tracy rejoiced. "Tinderblasts, a whole bloody rack of them!"

"Pretty slow," Pansy criticized.

"But they're solid," Tracy countered. "Even after all this time, they ought to be in good condition. I think they're the best we can hope for."

"No Nimbuses?" Draco asked, a note of despair in his voice. "Not even a One Thousand?"

"I think we're stuck with the Tinderblasts," Daphne said, picking one up. "Whoever else is going to play Seeker should take the Comet, though."

Draco sighed and picked up the Comet. "This is going to be even slower than my Two-Sixty at home."

"Stop complaining," Goyle grunted at him. "At least we get to fly some more and play some Quidditch."

"Thank Merlin!"

The Quidditch pitch was a breath-taking sight. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that spectators were high enough off the ground to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks that Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were ten metres high.

"Seekers pick your teams," Tracy declared.

"Crabbe and Goyle need to be split up!" Daphne interrupted.

The dastardly duo looked at each other. "It would be unfair to have us both on one team," Goyle said.

Crabbe nodded. "Yeah, we should be on different teams. Make it fair to both sides that way. We don't want to hurt anybody after all."

In the end it was Harry, Crabbe, Tracy, Blaise, and Pansy versus Draco, Goyle, Millie, Daphne, and Theo.

"How do we make positions?" Tracy asked.

"Seeker, Keeper, two Chasers, Beater?" Millie suggested.

"That one Beater going to get a heck of a workout," Draco disagreed. "Are Bludgers strictly necessary?"

"Seeker, Keeper, and three Chasers? That could work," Theo said, nodding his head.

There was a general consensus, so the teams split up. Harry would be the Seeker, Crabbe would be the Keeper, while Tracy, Blaise, and Pansy played Chaser. On the other team, Draco had claimed Seeker, and he appointed Goyle, Daphne, and Millie to be the Chasers while Theo got to be Keeper.

Daphne opened the box of Quidditch balls that Goyle and Crabbe had carried down from the common room. She reached in and took the Quaffle. "Everyone mount."

They all kicked off into the air. Daphne released the Golden Snitch. It buzzed by Harry's head and vanished. Daphne threw the Quaffle into the air.

Millie immediately grabbed the Quaffle and threw it to Goyle as she dodged around Pansy. Tracy was waiting for it though, and snatched it out of Goyle's hands. She took off down the pitch towards Theo's goalposts.

Harry watched the action with interest. He'd never seen Quidditch before, and he was fascinated. His friends were moving along at pretty good speeds, despite using old Tinderblast brooms. The back and forth action of the Quaffle was dizzying, and hardly anyone held onto it for more than five seconds.

"Good thing we're not using Bludgers, eh Harry? Sitting there like that, you'd make a prime target."

Draco was laughing as he looped above and around Harry.

"Don't get cocky, Draco," Harry warned. "I'm riding the best broom in the world, and I'll eat you and your Comet One-Eighty for dinner."

Draco stuck out his tongue. "Your broom might be wicked, Potter, but you'll never match my skills!"

And Draco lunged at him suddenly. Harry gasped in surprise and ducked to his left, performing a barrel roll. He looked over his shoulder as Draco went dashing by and saw his hand outstretched, reaching for the Golden Snitch!

Harry leaned left and spun around in midair, then leaned forward and went hurtling after him. In a few seconds, even Draco's head start was negated as the Nimbus far outstripped the old Comet. Harry drew even with Draco.

"This thing is fast!" Harry called over.

Draco glared over at Harry's broom, envious. "I absolutely must get Father to file a protest for me. This broom stinks! I will have a Nimbus for Christmas," he declared.

"Sorry, Malfoy," Harry called back, smirking, "but even if you do, I'll still leave you sucking cloud!"

With that friendly taunt, Harry leaned forward and took off after the Snitch. He was very close to it, so close he could almost touch the small ball. It was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings. The Snitch was fluttering along frantically right in front of him, twitching, bobbing, and jumping around like a sugar-overdosed hummingbird.

"Damn it," he heard Draco cursing as the superior speed of the Nimbus widened the gap between them.

"Look out!" Tracy shouted, dodging out of his way. Harry hadn't noticed; he was intent on the Snitch.

Millie had just scored on Crabbe, earning her team ten points. The game ground to a halt as they all gawked at Harry in hot pursuit of the Snitch.

Up, down, left, right, in, out, over, under, around, and through the Quidditch pitch, the stands, and all the sky therein Harry chased after the Snitch. He frowned, twisting himself as he struggled to keep on the course of the zooming ball.

Without warning the Snitch cut a sharp right turn and took off on a completely different vector. Harry's hand flashed out to his side as he kept his course. There was a frantic wiggling in his hand, and there rested the Snitch.

"I've got it!" he shouted, holding it above his head and circling around. Everyone began to gather at the crate in the center of the pitch.

"Beautiful catch!" Tracy congratulated him with a hug.

"Way to go!" Crabbe shouted, clapping Harry on the back with a big hand and sending him reeling.

"Nice job, Harry!" Pansy cheered.

"Stupid bloody Comet," Draco complained, shaking the broomstick.

"Heck of a catch," Goyle said to him, sending him reeling back the other way.

Theo caught him and kept him from crashing to the ground. "Not bad at all, Harry."

Millie was bouncing up and down. "That's a fast hundred-fifty points. A grand total of ten minutes!"

Daphne took the Snitch from him. "Excellently played, Harry. Everyone up for another game?"

"Mix up the teams," Theo suggested.

"No way, Nott," Pansy sneered at him. "You are destined to always lose." Then she stuck her tongue out at him.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "You two are so retarded."

"Mount!"

They took off into the sky again, and Daphne released the Snitch. She tossed the Quaffle into the air, and the game was afoot!

Harry beat Draco to the Snitch every time. It really hadn't been much of a challenge; the Nimbus left the old Comet in the dust. Draco had grumbled about it at first, but his mood brightened when Millie pointed out that Harry's speed was going to be an asset to the house team.

Thoroughly exhausted, they trudged back up to the castle. They'd missed tea time and were barely going to make it for dinner. Returning the brooms to the broom shed first, they carried the crate of balls back to the common room. Harry deposited his Nimbus on his bed, then he grabbed his bath things and headed for the showers.

As always, the perfect water temperature was blissful. He let the water cascade over him, washing away the dirt and sweat from the match. His sore muscles had declared war against him, but the heat and pounding rhythm of the water quickly soothed them.

He dried and dressed himself, then looked long and hard at his bed. It was tempting him to lay down and have a snooze. Telling himself that he needed to eat dinner, Harry promised himself that he wouldn't stay up late tonight.

When they were all clean, freshly-dressed, and well-groomed, the first year Slytherins walked through the dungeons and up the stairs to the Great Hall. They chattered animatedly about the upcoming Quidditch Cup, positive, now, that Harry was sure to win a place on the team.

Harry yawned all through dinner. Quidditch had given him quite a workout. He was tired, but he forced himself to keep his eyes and ears open. He listened for names of people who were also going to be trying out for the team, listening to the gossip about who had the best chances.

Jessica and Abraham were doing their duty as prefects and asking after the first years. When Harry's friends started to tell them all about the pick-up Quidditch games they'd played that afternoon, several of the older students became involved, and soon a dozen different conversations were going, all related to Quidditch.

It amazed Harry that people could get so wrapped up in Quidditch. Raised voices, pointing fingers, and waving arms were all part of the norm when discussing Quidditch. It was worse than when boys at his old Muggle school would talk about football, or when Uncle Vernon would argue politics with his friends.

After afters, Harry wanted nothing more than to seek his bed. He was too tired to be interested in more exploring of the castle with Draco and Theo, and the last thing he wanted to do on a Saturday night was read his school books.

He lay in his bed, alone in the darkness except for Goyle's snores which were audible even through two layers of thick velvet curtains. Though his body was tired, his mind was awake, and Harry's thoughts kept jumping all over the place. They were random thoughts, nighttime thoughts, but gradually they faded into blackness as sleep claimed him.

* * *

The next week flew by before Harry had even turned about twice. He was keeping his nose in his books and out of trouble, mostly at Theo's insistence. Between his own interest in Potions and Theo's near-encyclopedic knowledge of herbs and fungi, he did quite well for himself in both meetings of their Herbology class.

With Millie's help, Harry had been able to finally change his wooden matchstick into a silver needle, though he was still having some trouble managing to form the eye. Millie was optimistic in thinking he would achieve total success by the end of the month.

Harry slept in History of Magic, joining the rest of his classmates. Even Theo, the most studious of all the first years, closed his eyes and napped in what had to be the most boring lecture ever. Harry was convinced that Professor Binns' lectures were the cure for insomnia.

Charms was still interesting, even if it was still mostly theory. Just the other day, Professor Flitwick had pointed his wand at Tracy's kitten, Argent, and sent him zooming around the classroom, and they were all itching to try casting the spell.

Astronomy had rapidly become very tedious. The lessons were boring, something Harry hadn't expected. They had finished learning the astrological constellations, and now were learning about the planets and their moons. It had sounded fun when Professor Sinistra had given her overview of the course, but was rapidly proving to not meet his expectations.

Defence Against the Dark Arts had gotten a little better, with Professor Quirrell beginning to tell them about minor curses. It was nothing serious yet, so the first years continued their studies in the subject on their own terms.

Their Friday Potions lesson was without notable incident, which surprised Harry immensely. Still smarting from their detention with Professor Snape, Weasley and Finnigan were well-behaved. Finnigan seemed to still be irritated with Weasley; he worked with Dean Thomas, leaving Weasley to work with Neville Longbottom.

After lecture, the Slytherins made sure to be the first out into the hall. Professor Snape had shut himself in his office, so they knew they would be undisturbed. Each of the Gryffindors eyed Harry and his friends as they left the classroom, suspecting that they were up to something, which, to be fair, they were.

Finally Weasley, who was the last to leave, stepped out into the hall. When he spotted Draco and the rest, he froze in place.

"Now then, Weasley, you've had a whole week to think about what you've done wrong. Is there anything you'd like to say for yourself?" Draco asked, drawling his words as though he hadn't a care in the world.

Weasley swallowed hard. He was in a right fix, and he knew it. They had carefully timed this encounter, knowing that without his friends to back him up, the Gryffindor would let his true cowardice shine through.

"You're right, Malfoy," Weasley began slowly, and those simple words appeared to pain him. "I have given it some thought, and I was wrong to snitch to Professor McGonagall the way I did. It wasn't because I was afraid to duel you," he was quick to add, "or to get you in trouble."

"Is that so?" Draco said in his customary drawl. "I'm intrigued by your reasoning, then. Do go on."

"We were on our way to meet you," Weasley said hurriedly, "but old McGonagall nabbed us on our way out of the portrait hole, and we didn't have a choice. We didn't want to, but she made us tell her!"

"Is that a fact?" Theo said, a sneer in his voice.

Draco looked around at the others. Harry took a long look at Weasley, who was sweating, and nodded at Draco. "Well, well, will wonders never cease?" Draco drawled in a facetious tone. "Weasley can be reasonable. Now let's see if he knows how to apologize."

Weasley swallowed again. He really had no choice at all. "I'm sorry for tattling on you, Malfoy."

"There now, Weasley, was that so hard? I'm sure your Mummy would be very proud of you. Now get out of the dungeons."

Weasley gathered himself up, managing not to run, but as he rounded the corner, they could hear his footfalls as he ran for the light of day.

* * *

Saturday morning was bright and sunny, one of the last predicted nice days left of the summer. Though the temperature was only moderate, the sunshine made the whole world seem bright. A few fluffy clouds were strung out in the sky like cotton candy. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the trees in the forbidden forest.

Down at the Quidditch pitch, the Slytherin House team had gathered early. They were doing their warm-up exercises as those who hoped to make the team arrived, brooms over their shoulders. Harry felt nervous standing with these other children, most of whom were much taller than he.

Draco had scouted up the line, checking out not the hopefuls, but their brooms. He had gleefully reported back that nobody else had a Nimbus 2000. Most of the others had Cleansweep Sixes, but a few had model Sevens. Two girls had the latest Comet Trading Company model, the Comet 270. One third year boy, Charles Warrington, had a Nimbus 1700. Draco told Harry that his broom was the best of the lot. It was small comfort to his nervous stomach.

There were four open positions on the team; two Chaser positions and both Beater positions. In addition, with the starting Seeker having left school, Terence Higgs would have to defend his position. Theo had gone down the line as well, making inquiries. A lot of people wanted to be Seeker.

It was the position of glory, Harry had learned from all the stories he'd heard. All the positions were important, and each could make critical plays that could change the game instantly, but the Seeker was where the power lay. Only the Seeker could end the match, so it was a matter of being the quickest to catch the Golden Snitch, while the rest of the team kept the other team from scoring, so that the hundred-fifty points it earned would assure victory. Seekers were very important and were thus also the players most often fouled.

"All right you lot, we're going to get started," shouted Flint. "All who are trying out for Chaser get over here. You'll fly two at a time, and Bletchley and I will be judging your performance. Best six move on, and then we try for Beaters."

The first two candidates kicked off into the sky. Flint called various maneuvers out to them and they performed, tossing the Quaffle back and forth. Bletchley kicked off and went to guard the goal rings while they practiced taking shots at him. Neither was any good, Draco told him.

The next pair was a bit better, as was the pair after. Finally Flint called the last pair down, and made some notes on his clipboard. "Good," he said shortly. "Everybody stick around. Beaters! Over here! Now! C'mon, move!"

For this trial, Flint took to the air with the Quaffle in his hand, challenging the hopefuls to knock him off his broom, or to at least make him drop the ball. Both Bludgers were turned loose, and every hopeful took a bat into the sky with him. Bletchley was keeping notes on performance, using Flint's clipboard.

Flint could fly, nobody had any doubts about this. He flew literal circles around everybody else in the sky. Nobody even came close to nailing him with either of the two Bludgers. It was a pair of fourth year boys, Ivan Bole and Matthew Derrick, who did the best of them all, who whacked the Bludgers hardest, who turned to whacking their competition instead of their target.

One by one, the other hopefuls fell from the sky. Finally only those two boys were left, and veritable gorillas they were. They whacked their Beaters' bats together in triumph.

"What the hell do you two think you're doing?" Bletchley yelled up at them. "Flint! Get down here!"

Everyone sank down to the earth. Flint was grinning madly.

"Are you two insane?" Bletchley demanded of the pair.

Bole looked at Derrick. Derrick looked at Bole. "We couldn't touch Flint," Bole began. "So we figured we'd show what we got," continued Derrick. "Only way to do that was to take out the competition," Bole finished.

"Either way, I'm impressed," Flint said cheerfully. "You're both on the team for showing considerable initiative and creativity. It won't be that easy to nail the folks on the other team, mind, but you've got skills we can build on."

Bletchley fumed for a minute, then handed Flint back his clipboard. "Moving on," he said suggestively.

"Yes. Seekers!" Flint bellowed. "Great Scot," he muttered, looking at the fifteen people who stepped forward.

"All right, this is how it's going to work. You're going to go in batches of five. I'm going to release the Snitch. The first one to get it moves on to the next round, and so on. Beaters will be practicing, as will the Chasers," he looked down at his clipboard, "Montague, Pucey, Warrington, Pritchard, Fawcett, and duMonde, your trial isn't done yet. Miles, get your arse up to those hoops. It's Warrington, Montague, and Pucey against Fawcett, Pritchard, and duMonde. Whichever team scores more points than the other will have a further trial, with two of you getting on the team.

"Seekers, nobody is looking out for you. Beaters will be trying to bean you with Bludgers, Chasers are going to get in your way, and other Seekers will try to take you out. That's the name of the game today, survival of the fittest. Get to the Snitch, and you move on to round two. You five," he said, pointing, "are first."

Harry was one of those five.

"Go Harry!" "You'll do great!" His friends were very encouraging, but Harry's stomach was filled with butterflies.

"In the air! I'm releasing the Snitch!"

Harry kicked off, wobbling just a bit. The Nimbus was heavenly, he decided, responding almost more to his thoughts than his motions. He looked around and saw that the other four would-be Seekers were all very confident, or at least hiding their nervousness well. The six Chasers began to circle; the two Beaters were whacking the Bludgers back and forth between them.

Flint tossed the Quaffle high into the air, and the game was on. Fawcett swooped in and snatched it, tossing it to Pritchard, who fumbled it. Montague plucked it out of her grasp and passed to Pucey. Pucey caught it, dodged around duMonde, and caught a Bludger to the ribs, dropping the Quaffle.

Fawcett grabbed it again and made for the goal rings, charging at Warrington, flipping upside down and cutting very closely beneath him. She faked a throw on the third ring, faked another throw on the first ring, and threw back to duMonde, who sent it soaring through the middle ring, much to Bletchley's disgust.

What a game!

Harry snapped his focus back to the Snitch. He had to find it! He scoured the field, hunting for it. It was easier now, with the bright sunshine, and he kept hunting for that speck of gold. One of the other Seekers took a Bludger to the head and sank down to the ground. That was good! His competition was now less.

Montague scored again, then Warrington scored, and then Pucey scored twice more. Montague's team was showing distinctly better teamwork and coordination.

Harry started as he caught a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye, but it was only somebody's wristwatch. Then out of nowhere, another Seeker came flashing past, hand out-stretched, the Snitch fluttering and fleeing a few feet in front. Harry bent over his broom handle and took off after.

In no time, he had caught up. The Nimbus 2000 was showing its value, and Harry was neck-and-neck with the girl. She was straining, leaning, reaching for that winged golden ball. He wasn't as long in the arm as she was, so he nudged his broom to go faster.

CRACK!

Harry's world was suddenly filled with blinding white pain. He wavered, losing the track of the Snitch, and his broom went off course. He clutched his shoulder, tears springing to his eyes. He saw the Bludger go arcing around and making another go, this time at the girl. She too was hit, and the Snitch escaped.

Harry fought back his tears. Quidditch is a rough game, he told himself. I knew that getting into it. Just got to try harder and be more aware.

Two other Seekers had taken off after the Snitch when Harry and the girl had been ambushed by the Bludgers. He could still see the Snitch, frantically trying to escape. He angled his broom and sped off. Within seconds, he was right back where he'd been.

He was bumped and jostled and elbowed, but he refused to give up, giving back just as good as he got. He leaned forward even more, urging his Nimbus on, and began to pull away from the others. He reached out his hand, straining.

He had it! The tickling feeling of the wings was still the same, but he refused to open his hand. He gripped it firmly, making sure it didn't get away.

"I've got the Snitch!" he yelled, holding it up over his head.

Flint's whistle blew. All the Seekers dropped back down to the ground, and Harry handed over the Snitch.

"Excellent job, Potter. You make it to round two. Have a rest. Lot two, get in the air." Five more would-be Seekers kicked off.

"Snitch!" Flint bellowed as he released it. The game was afoot again. The Chasers kept chasing, the Beaters kept beating, and the Keeper did his best to stay alive.

"Way to go, Harry!" Draco said, slapping Harry on the shoulder. Whiteness filled Harry's vision, and he nearly fell to the ground.

"Easy," Theo said, holding him up. "What's wrong, mate?"

"Shoulder," Harry whispered, "Bludger."

Draco's face fell. "Oh no, I'm sorry, Harry! I didn't know!"

Theo looked around. "We don't have time to take him up to Madam Pomfrey. I could try to do something, if you want me to."

The pain was incredible. "Please?"

"Okay, brace yourself."

Harry didn't hear the incantation, but the pain seemed to recede slightly. He felt Theo's fingers probing at his shoulder.

"I don't think anything's broken," he said doubtfully. "Hit you right here?"

Harry winced. "Yeah," he gasped.

"Well there's a phenomenal lump there, but I don't think your shoulder blade is broken. It feels like it's still in one piece. Let me try another spell."

The pain lifted some more. "Better," Harry said, taking a deep breath and speaking normally.

"Good," Theo said. "I'm sorry I can't do more, but I'm no Healer."

"It's all right, Theo," Harry said gratefully. "Thanks."

"Third group, in the air!" Flint shouted at the remaining Seekers.

"C'mon Harry, let's have a sit. You're going to need your strength for the next round." Draco was being very solicitous, leading him to a bench that had been set up on the sidelines.

Harry sat down with a thunk. He took deep breaths, trying to get the blood circulating through his body, bringing natural healing power with it. He wasn't watching as the last of the would-be Seekers finished their match. He was only trying to make the pain stop.

"Potter, Lapointe, and Drummond, get over here!" bawled Flint. "Higgs, where are you?"

"Nothing for it," Harry muttered, getting to his feet, and managing to walk levelly over to where the rest were.

"First of all, congratulations on getting this far. Now then, Higgs was reserve Seeker last year, so he's been bumped to first team; however, if one of you can get to the Snitch before he does, that means that you are on the first team, and whoever can catch it next is on second team. Any questions?"

There were none.

"Good, in the air with you then!"

This was the moment of truth. This was where he would sink or swim. If he wanted on the team, he had to ignore the pain in his shoulder, fly straight, and catch that Snitch.

"Loose!" Flint called out, and the flash of gold went zooming by Harry. He wasted no time and immediately took off after it.

Bump, elbow, prod, zoom, it was all a blur to Harry, receding back behind the white haze of pain. All there was was the Snitch and those who wanted to take it away from him.

CRASH! went a Bludger as it smashed into Drummond, breaking up the knot of Seekers. Higgs had spied it and looped out of the way, and he was the first back on the Snitch's course. Harry broke off, wanting to avoid that Bludger. Higgs nearly had it; there was nothing for it.

Harry leaned back slightly, easing the forward momentum of his broom. Higgs pulled away, Lapointe hot on his tail. Reserve Seeker would be good enough. But wait! As Harry watched, the Snitch began a long, looping arc, coming back towards him! He put on a burst of speed and angled for an intercept.

He blind-sided Higgs, smashing into him with terrific force. The pain in Harry's shoulder almost made him black out, but he fought to keep his focus. His broom started wobbling, so he switched hands, reaching out with his injured arm. Just a little more speed! He had it! He could barely feel it for all the pain he was in, but the Snitch was there in Harry's hand.

Flint's whistle blew. "Potter, come on down. Everyone else keep moving!"

Harry landed hard next to Flint. He handed over the Snitch.

"Congratulations Potter. I guess Professor Snape wasn't fooling when he said you could fly well. You've made the team."

Harry nodded absently, seeing his friends charging towards him from the side of the pitch where they'd been watching.

"You don't look so good," Flint said to him. He had a worried look on his face.

"I don't feel so good, either," Harry said and fainted, crashing to the grass in a heap.

* * *

"Where am I?" Harry asked as soon as he was conscious again. Looking around, he saw that everything in the large room was white. He looked up at the concerned faces of his friends. Wait a minute, looked up? He realized he was laying in a bed with white linen sheets.

"Hospital wing," Draco answered, breaking off his conversation with Tracy. "You fainted after you made the team. Congratulations, by the way."

"I knew you could do it!" Millie said a bit too loudly, earning her a glare from Madam Pomfrey.

"Prodigious!" Tracy exclaimed. She was holding his right hand. Harry smiled slightly at her. Draco snorted.

"I fainted?" he asked, puzzled.

"Oh Harry, we were so worried!" Tracy said. "We saw you hit the ground, but they wouldn't let us get near."

"How'd I get here?" he asked, touched that his friends had been so concerned.

"Flint kept everyone away and cast a spell," Draco told him. "You stiffened up like a plank, and he brought you up here himself. He would have stayed, but he had to get back to the trials."

Theo nodded. "That Bludger banged your shoulder up a treat," he said, "Madam Pomfrey said you'd had a bit of a shock, but that you'd be right as rain in a few hours."

"My shoulder doesn't hurt," he said thickly.

"She fixed you right up," Theo said. "Said I'd done a nice bit of work with my spells, too," he preened. Nothing made Theo happier than praise for good work.

"When can I leave?"

"Anytime you want to, dearie," said the matronly nurse as she bustled over. She pointed her wand at his shoulder and hummed to herself in satisfaction.

"Right as rain," she confirmed. "You'll be just in time for lunch. Go on now!"

Harry sat up and swung his feet around. He pulled on his trainers and got to his feet, waving off Draco's help.

"I'm hungry," he announced.

Tracy and Pansy giggled. Millie took his arm.

"C'mon, Seeker, let's go get you fed."


	10. A Troll in the Dungeons

Perhaps it was because he was so busy now, what with Quidditch practice twice a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he crossed off the last day of October on his calendar. He'd been at Hogwarts for two months now, and the old castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had.

Harry was happy. It was a new feeling for him, and he found that he quite liked it. He had hardly dared to dream that life could be as wonderful as it had turned out to be. Whole days went by when he didn't even think about the Dursleys, those miserable Muggles who had tried to keep him down. His days were no longer filled with hunger, isolation, and verbal abuse, but rather with laughter and friendship.

His friends seemed to be a gift from heaven. Sure they had their quirks and their strange habits, but they were good people. They'd taken Harry into their House and into their hearts. Harry knew that if he ever had to make a stand, any of his friends would jump up to stand beside him, no matter the odds, no matter the opposition. He would do the same for them.

His friends had helped him with learning the basics of magic, drawing them all closer together. Now that they had mastered those basics, their lessons were becoming more interesting. In Charms they had begun to work on levitation, the spell that Professor Flitwick had used to send Tracy's kitten, Argent, zooming about the classroom. So far they had focused on the wrist movement ("Swish and flick!") and properly pronouncing the Latin words.

On Halloween morning they came up into the castle proper led by their noses, which had been filled with the wonderful smell of baking pumpkin. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to actually try casting the levitation spell. He told the class to break into pairs and passed out a feather to each pair of students. Harry was partnered with Draco, though he could have quite easily worked with any of his friends.

Today, luck was with them all. Even those of the Slytherins who had been struggling managed to successfully send their feathers floating around the room today. Only Pansy was having trouble; she managed to set her feather on fire, filling the room with a highly unpleasant smell.

"Well done, all of you!" cried Professor Flitwick. "Fifty points to Slytherin!"

Charms was their last class that day, so they holed up in the library afterwards to finish some homework. Professor Snape had assigned an essay on the Scintillating Solution that was due the following morning. They would actually be attempting to make the potion in one week.

When it was time for dinner, they all entered the Great Hall and stopped in their tracks. The Hall had been absolutely transformed. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, turban askew, and terror written across his face. Everyone stared in amazement as he tripped and fell to his knees in front of the High Table.

"Troll!" he gasped. "In the dungeons! Thought you ought to know." He slid to the floor in a dead faint.

For a second nobody moved. Then someone screamed and a panicked uproar filled the hall. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"There will be order," he declared. "Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately. I will lead the teachers to the dungeons and we will deal with this troll. Quickly now!"

"Stay where you are," Elan Malfoy snapped at them. "There's no sense in creating a huge jam of people at the door. Someone will get hurt."

So the Slytherins waited patiently for the Hall to clear. Peter von Erickson, the seventh year prefect, appeared lost in thought, but when he spoke, he was perfectly cool and composed, very much in charge of the situation.

"Listen up, everyone. Because this troll is in the dungeons, I have decided that it would be too dangerous to try to lead you all back to the common room. We're going to the library instead."

"What will Professor Dumbledore say?" a frightened second year girl asked.

Peter's upper lip curled in disgust, though he said nothing inflammatory. "Sometimes the Headmaster is a little absent-minded. I'm sure it just slipped his mind that our common room is in the dungeons."

"It's going to be all right," Elan assured the girl, taking her hand. "The professors will take care of the troll, and you'll be snug in your bed tonight."

The girl (Harry thought her name was Samantha) smiled gratefully. The prefects stationed themselves all around the Slytherins, forming a defensive perimeter. The fifth, sixth, and seventh year students all had their wands out as well. Peter led the way towards the library.

Theo tugged at Harry's and Draco's robes, pulling the boys towards the back of the group and then ducking off to the side. He had a strange look to his face, a weird glint in his eye. Blaise followed them, his curiosity plain to see.

"What?" Draco asked, irritated, twitching his robes back into place.

"Let's go," Theo said.

"Where?" Harry asked, confused.

"To the dungeons!"

Harry stared at his friend. "Are you insane?" he hissed. "There's a great bloody troll in the dungeons! Why do you think the prefects are taking us to the library instead of our common room?"

"I've read about trolls," Theo said. "I think we can beat one. C'mon, it'll be fun!"

"Fun?" Draco said incredulously. "Evidently this is some definition of 'fun' that I am unaware of. Theo, you're going to get us killed!"

"It's only a troll-"

"Only a troll?" Harry gaped at him. "You've been sniffing potion fumes in class, haven't you?"

"Look, I don't really think it'll be fun, but honestly, what a challenge! Don't you want to try your hand at something more advanced than feathers? We've been practicing hexes for nearly two months for what? Humiliating Weasley doesn't take that much preparation."

"It's quite a jump from feathers to trolls," Harry retorted. "I'd like a few intermediary steps, if you don't mind. Now come on. We're going to the library."

Theo shook off Harry's hand. "No way, no day. That troll is mine."

"You're out of your bloody mind!" Draco half-shouted, making a grab for Theo's robes.

Theo dodged neatly. "Come along if you want to," he threw back over his shoulder, and he sprinted down the hall.

Draco looked at Harry. Harry looked back, very unhappy. "You realize that we have to go after him," Harry said.

"We do?" Draco asked. "You mean he's not going to get what he deserves?"

"Forget this," Blaise declared. "I'm not going anywhere near that troll." He retreated back the way they had come.

Harry grabbed Draco's robes and began pulling him down the hall in the direction Theo had gone. "He's our friend, and we have to stick by him, even though he's gone potty. As soon as we save him, I'm going to hex him into next week, but right now he needs our help."

Draco changed the subject, pulling his robes free of Harry's grasp and straightening them yet again. "I wonder how a troll got in," he mused as they walked. "They're really stupid. No way it could have gotten in on its own."

"Peeves?" Harry suggested.

"Could be. Seems a bit out of his style though." This was clearly bothering Draco.

Harry stopped suddenly, holding up his hand for silence. They could both clearly hear hurrying footsteps.

"Elan's gone looking for us!" hissed Draco, pulling Harry into a shadowed corner. It was not Elan, but rather Professor Snape that they saw walking quickly through the corridor and disappearing through a secret passage.

"What's he doing up here?" Harry asked. "Shouldn't he be with the other teachers in the dungeons?"

"No idea. That passage leads to the third floor, though. What's up there that he's so concerned about?"

"Hey, there's Theo!"

"Glad you could join me," Theo muttered, as they moved forward to stand near him.

The troll was huge and ugly. It dragged a thick club on the ground behind it as it shuffled through the hall. It was perhaps best that they did not try to categorize the awful smell of the thing; what of the feast they had managed to enjoy thus far would be decorating the floor if they thought too much about it.

"I thought Quirrell said it was down in the dungeons," Harry whispered. "What's it doing up here?"

"All sorts of people in strange places tonight," Draco replied. "So what's the plan? Does it include running far away from here?"

"No, it doesn't" Theo hissed at him.

"So what do we do?" asked Harry.

"I'm not quite sure," Theo replied doubtfully. "We stop it, that's for certain, but now that I'm looking at this thing, I'm not quite sure I knew what I was doing."

"I could have told you that. I did tell you that. So let's run away! Let the teachers take care of it!" Draco snapped. "We don't have a lot of options."

Harry shook his head. "They're all down in the dungeons except for Snape, and he looked busy, so let's not bother him. We're here now, and it's up to us to stop this thing before it hurts anybody." He looked at his two friends. "Who better than us? We're Slytherins, the best House at Hogwarts."

Draco and Theo grinned at him. "You got that right," Theo said. "So what's your idea?"

Harry drew his wand and pointed it, not at the troll, but at the giant club it carried. "I'm going to apply today's Charms lesson," he said. " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

The club was wrenched out of the troll's grasp and soared into the air. The troll stopped shambling along and stood blinking stupidly at its own weapon. Harry waved his wand a little, and the club smacked the troll in the head! It was stunned for a moment, but then it shook off its daze and roared in anger.

"Bonkers!" Draco exclaimed, drawing his own wand. " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " he cried, pointing his wand at a marble pillar with an oil lamp resting on it. The pillar shuddered, then slowly rose into the air.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " Theo echoed, pointing at one of the tapestries that hung everywhere in this castle. He brought the fabric up high, maneuvering it over the troll's head, and dropped it down, blinding it.

"Hit it!" Draco shouted, and both he and Harry began striking the troll about the head and shoulders with their floating, impromptu weapons. They got about six good hits in before, with a groan of pain, the troll tottered and crashed to the ground.

Everyone was frozen for a moment, not believing it was over. Then Theo laughed and twirled his wand in his fingers. "Up Slytherin!"

Draco was looking decidedly unwell. "Excuse me," he said faintly, "but I'm going to have a heart attack now."

"What is going on here?" came a shocked and infuriated voice. The Slytherins turned to see Professor McGonagall standing nearby, her face pinched, her lips white from being pressed together, and her eyes flat and piercing. She looked very unhappy with them.

"Hello, Professor," Theo said nonchalantly. "How are you this evening?"

"None of your cheek, Nott," she snapped. "Why aren't you in your common room?"

"Well," drawled Draco, "seeing as how there was a troll loose in the dungeons, our prefects decided to take us to the library instead."

"Then why aren't you in the library?" she asked through clenched teeth, visibly trying to not give in to the urge to strangle the lot of them.

"A worthy question," interjected Professor Snape, coming onto the scene with Professor Quirrell close behind. He bent over to examine the troll. "This troll has been beaten quite severely." He stood up. "How?" he asked, his black eyes boring directly into Harry's.

"We applied today's Charms lesson, sir," he said, relieved to be speaking to his own Head of House, someone he knew would be on his side. "We used the Levitation Charm and just kept hitting it until it stopped moving."

McGonagall was staring at them in disbelief. Quirrell, looking ill, had leaned against the wall. He would glance down at the troll every few seconds and shudder before looking away.

Snape, however, was regarding his first-year charges with something akin to pride. "Yes, well, with such fearsome weapons, the outcome was inevitable."

"Of all the- Why I never- How could you be so stupid?!" McGonagall burst out. "You could have been killed!"

"But they weren't," Snape said sharply. "They prevented this troll from causing murder and mayhem here in the castle. Their methods were crude, no doubt, but no less inspired for it." He looked critically at them. "Twenty points," he said firmly.

Harry delighted in the look of consternation that crossed McGonagall's face. "Professor Snape," she began.

"Each."

"Now really!"

"The three of you may return to the Great Hall. I believe now that the troll has been taken care of, the Halloween Feast can continue as planned." Professor Snape's dismissal was great news, and the three of them dashed away. As they rounded the corner, they saw Professor McGonagall shaking her finger at Professor Snape, who looked profoundly unintimidated.

Back in the Great Hall, the students were beginning to return, their plates still as they had left them. Harry sat down and took a bite of his baked potato. It was still warm.

"Well," Theo said brightly, "that was an adventure."

Draco reached over and shoved his friend's face into his soup bowl. "Never do that do me again!" Theo was sputtering soup. "I am not a bloody Gryffindor, I am not bravely stupid, and I do not enjoy facing certain death!"

"Draco, you're going to drown him," Harry said with his mouth full. He chewed faster and attempted to swallow.

"He deserves it!"

"Let him up." Draco held on another few seconds to make his point, then released Theo's head. Theo came up out of his soup gasping for breath, and groping for a napkin.

"You'll pay for that, Malfoy," Theo threatened. "I wouldn't sleep tonight, if I were you."

* * *

The Quidditch season had begun!

On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Gryffindor was in third place in the House Cup, though the points from winning the match would not let them take first place. Slytherin was already in first place, and they wanted to maintain that lead.

Harry's presence on the team had not been kept secret, so some people kept telling him he'd be brilliant, while others told him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress. Draco, Theo, and anyone else who knew what Harry was capable of doing usually laughed in the face of anyone who spoke like this, which irritated Weasley and his fellow Gryffindors immensely.

Last minute practices forced on the team by Flint made Harry even more grateful for his friends, who helped him get through all of his homework. His grades would have plummeted had he been left to his own devices.

The week raced by, and Harry's nervousness increased exponentially with each passing day. That Friday in Potions class, the tension in the air was unbearably thick. Vicious glares shot both ways across the room, and only the impending arrival of Professor Snape kept them from becoming more than glances. The door slammed, signaling the start of class as it did every Friday.

"Patil, what is the ratio of distilled water to dandelion sap in the Wart Removing Potion?"

Poor Parvati Patil was stuck working with Weasley. If rumour was to be believed, she'd apparently drawn the short straw this morning. Weasley had a different partner every class because none of the Gryffindors wanted to work with him anymore. So far, to Harry's knowledge, Weasley had not managed to brew a single potion correctly. Weasley was even worse at Potions than the hopelessly inept Longbottom. Whenever those two worked together, an explosion was almost guaranteed.

Weasley was always the first one to bolt from the Potions dungeon, anxious as he was to escape both Professor Snape and the Slytherins. His mistakes had lost Gryffindor scores of points, and earned him many biting, scathing remarks from the professor. He hadn't yet gotten slapped with a detention, but Harry was sure it was only a matter of time.

Harry stared in amazement as the Potions Master limped down the aisle. Professor Snape was a Slytherin to the core, yet he was limping, showing weakness. Something was seriously wrong.

"See that?" he whispered to Tracy.

She frowned. "He must really be hurt," she whispered back.

Curiosity consumed Harry all through the lecture. He was distracted to the point that he nearly added double the required amount of ladybug shells to his potion. Fortunately, Tracy was paying attention and saved him from ruining all their hard work. When she jabbed him in the side and told him to focus, he tried to concentrate. Professor Snape's apparent regard for Harry could slip away in an instant if Harry allowed himself to make mistakes. He didn't want to draw Snape's wrath.

After class was over, Weasley bolted and all the other students headed up to the Great Hall for lunch. Harry stayed behind. Snape had his head buried in one of the supply cabinets. He cleared his throat.

"Sir?"

"What is it, Mister Potter?"

"Are you all right, sir? I noticed you limping."

Snape's piercing black eyes bore into Harry's face as the Potions Master gave Harry his undivided attention.

"I appreciate the concern, Mr. Potter, but I am quite fine. A strained muscle this morning during my morning stretches."

Something about that didn't sound quite right, but Harry knew it really was none of his business. He nodded.

"Yes sir," he said. "We were just worried, is all. You know, about not showing weakness and such."

A cheek muscle twitched in Snape's stern face. "I see. Rest assured, I will be fine in several more hours, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir," Harry said again. "I'll see you at lunch then." He turned to leave, but something on the floor caught his eye. "Professor? What's this on the floor?" He lent over to touch it, and his fingers came away red.

"Nothing to be concerned about, Potter," Snape said, his voice taking on a slight warning tone.

Harry deflated. Snape obviously wasn't going to tell him anything. "Yes sir," he said and walked towards the door.

"Oh, and Potter?" came Snape's voice behind him. Harry turned around. The Potions Master grabbed a handful of his robes and leaned in very close. Harry noticed that his breath wasn't pleasant at all.

"You three foolishly endangered the reputation of Slytherin House," Snape said, his dark eyes burning a hole in Harry's skull, "and more importantly, your lives. I am responsible for your lives, and if you ever act like a hard-headed Gryffindor again, you will wish that the troll had gotten you. Do you understand?"

Too scared to speak, Harry nodded his head furiously. Snape released him and turned back to his tasks. Harry bolted for the door. On the walk up to the Hall, Harry's mind was in turmoil. Professor Snape was hiding something, but what? Was it even any of Harry's business? Snape was a teacher, he could certainly handle his own affairs. Why then, did it continue to nag at him?

Harry sat down with his friends, but he didn't take any food. Theo nudged him.

"Hey, what's eating you?" In a whisper, Harry told Theo about the conversation and Snape's guardedness.

"Harry, this is blood," Theo said, peering at the red liquid on Harry's fingers.

"B-blood?" Harry stammered. "Whose blood?"

"An excellent question indeed," Theo muttered. "Professor Snape was limping, and now you discover blood on the floor. There's more to this than a strained muscle. Something hurt Snape, something that can't be healed with common magic. Something else is preventing him from getting proper treatment for it. This is a mystery."

"Hey Draco," Theo said, waving the blond boy over. "Got any ideas about this?" He explained the situation and his own speculations.

Draco's eyes were very serious. "I have an excellent idea," he said, looking directly at Harry. "We saw him headed towards the third floor the night we fought the troll. How much would you care to wager that he had a run-in with that three-headed dog?"

Harry gasped. Images of that great vicious beast came back to him just as sharply as if it were in front of him again. "Are you saying that Snape is after that mysterious package from Gringotts?"

Draco frowned, his eyebrows coming together in deep thought. "That's what the evidence points to. The plot thickens."

Millie shoved Draco down the bench. "Hey, you're talking pretty loud, you know. I don't think any of the other students heard you, but Pansy and I heard you loud and clear."

Daphne leaned over. "I heard you too. We really shouldn't talk about this here, you know."

"Fine," said Theo. "In our practice room after lunch. Until then, not another word."

Harry couldn't eat. His stomach was in knots. He drank three glasses of milk to have something to do. He did his best to observe the head table inconspicuously, but he needn't have worried; Professor Snape never arrived.

After what seemed like forever, lunch was over and the now free Slytherin first years nearly ran from the hall. Harry followed as Daphne, Theo, Pansy, Draco, Tracy, and Millie made their way to the empty storage room.

"Okay, let's go over it from the beginning," Pansy said, "just to make sure we're not missing anything."

Harry recounted the story of his visit to Gringotts with Hagrid. Millie then told how Hagrid had been very evasive about the break-in and the Daily Prophet article. Draco said that he and Harry had seen Professor Snape headed for the third floor on the night the troll had gone rampaging. Tracy reminded them all that the Professor had been limping earlier in the day. Harry concluded with the evidence he'd turned up after lecture.

"So that's all the solid evidence we have," Theo said. "Now then, my theory, which is based solely on the evidence, is that Professor Snape let the troll in to cause a distraction while he tried to get at whatever the dog is guarding, and the dog is what injured him, leaving him with that limp and causing him to be dripping blood on the floor."

"But that's absurd!" Daphne protested. "He's a teacher, he wouldn't be trying to steal something that Dumbledore is keeping safe."

Tracy snorted derisively. "Not all the teachers are saints, you know, and everyone can be tempted. What if it was a magic artifact or something with special magic powers? Remember, someone broke into Gringotts to get at this thing. It's got to be important."

"Tracy is right," Draco said. "Everyone can be tempted. We've got to find out what that dog is guarding."

"How?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head. "I don't know, but we are certainly not going to go adventuring around the school to find out. Two near-death experiences is about all I can handle."

"Oh yes, Professor Snape told me that if we ever act so recklessly again, he'll make us wish the troll had got us," Harry told them. "He said we shouldn't act like Gryffindors."

That got a few chuckles, and Theo looked a little ashamed of himself. "Anyone have anything else to add?" he asked, changing the subject. Nobody did. "Then I suggest we move on. Who wants to practice some curses?"

"We don't have our targets with us, you ninny," Pansy said with a sneer.

Theo considered this, scratching at his chin with his index finger. "Good point, Pansy. In that case, then," he said with an evil-looking smile on his face, "I volunteer -- you. Rictusempra!"

* * *

"Sign the petition!" Millie said as a group of third-year Ravenclaws walked into the Great Hall. She was ignored. That was the last of them; now all the students were seated to dinner. She sighed in exasperation.

"We are the only people who've signed this petition," she said with disappointment.

"Not the only people," Harry said, trying to keep her spirits up. "We did get a lot of Slytherins to sign."

"By having Elan threaten to give them detention," Draco said sourly. "Do you know I had to promise to do him a favour in order to get him to do that? An open-ended favour? I may never forgive you for this."

Millie had pointedly reminded them all that she had promised to circulate a petition for the creation of a school choir in order to smite an enemy of Slytherin House. Using guilt trips and unscrupulous tactics that Harry hadn't thought her capable of, she'd brow-beaten Draco into helping her with it. Harry had done so out of a sense of obligation. She'd made that promise to the Sorting Hat in exchange for the Hat sorting the Muggleborn Hermione Granger to Hufflepuff, the House of Duffers, in revenge for her rudeness and callousness towards Harry on the Hogwarts Express. What made it worse was that it had been Harry's idea (though not a serious one).

Harry didn't know if he could sing or not; he'd never tried. Still, a singing group sounded like fun, even if he had almost no free time. Hopefully things would lighten up after the first Quidditch match tomorrow. Harry shook his head. He'd been trying not to think about that.

"Well, well, what have we here?" came a well-known and hated voice. Ron Weasley, his friends Thomas and Finnigan in tow, walked up.

"Weasley," Harry said coldly.

"Potter," came the reply, just as chilly.

"Sign the petition," Millie interrupted their impending fight.

"What petition is this then?" Finnigan asked. He had no particular love for the Slytherins (especially not after Draco had so soundly hexed him, though to be fair, Weasley had gotten far more than he), but he didn't go out of his way to antagonize them the way Weasley often did.

"There isn't any sort of singing group here at Hogwarts," Draco told him. "We'd like to get one started."

Finnigan considered this. "All right, where do I sign?"

Draco did a double-take. "Umm, right here," he said, handing over the petition.

Finnigan read through the wording briefly. "Hrmm," he mused. "Looks fair enough. Quill?"

Millie handed it to him, and he signed with a flourish. "There you are," he said, handing it back.

"Thank you," she said. "Anyone else?"

"I can't sing," Thomas said.

"Neither can Harry," Draco replied. "Didn't stop him."

Thomas considered this. "Sure, all right." He signed.

"Weasley?" Draco asked, managing to interject all sorts of insults into the question.

"No thanks," he said with irritation. "C'mon, let's go."

They entered the Hall.

"Well, that was unexpected," Harry said, surprised.

Draco chuckled. "It was worth offering it to them just to see the look on Weasley's face when his friends signed."

"The more people the better," Millie agreed. "C'mon, we'd better eat before the food gets cold."

As they sat down, Harry noticed Professor Snape seated in his usual place. He made a note to watch Snape carefully to see if he could spot any sign of that limp.

Chance had Harry sitting near Crabbe and Goyle, the two boys in his year that he knew the least. He knew they were best friends, had been since they were small -- smaller, that is. They looked remarkably similar, which meant people often confused them. They both thought Herbology was boring, along with History (though they were certainly not alone in that!) Neither seemed to understand that a lack of knowledge of herbs and plants would hurt them when it came to Potions, which is why they were always doing badly down in the dungeons.

Where Harry despaired over Astronomy, though, Crabbe thought it was the best thing in the world. Thursday nights when everyone else was yawning and falling asleep at the top of the Astronomy tower, Crabbe would be bright-eyed and perky. Harry was at a loss to explain it.

Goyle, on the other hand, while he liked Astronomy just fine, much preferred Charms. What he lacked in actual skill (not all that much), he more than made up for in enthusiasm. Once someone got him talking about the subject, it was difficult to get him to stop. At present he was telling Crabbe about the Engorgement Charm and the marvelous applications it could have on a pastry.

He and Draco were sitting across the table from the dastardly duo, Draco listening to them with the bored sort of interest, which meant that he was paying attention only until something better came along. Harry was distracted, watching the High Table for Snape to leave, trying to enjoy his dinner, and paying attention to the conversation around him.

"So I imagine if you used it on the last of the pie, you'd have more than enough pie to share," Crabbe said, his eyes losing focus as he spoke, his mind apparently drifting off.

"Oh for the love of Merlin," Draco snapped. "Is food all you can ever think about, you fathead?"

"Hey!" Crabbe protested. "My head isn't fat!"


	11. Something To Prove

"I'm being pulled out of school," Zabini said softly.

"What?"

"My mother is taking me out of Hogwarts. She's going to enroll me at Beauxbatons."

"What's Beauxbatons?" Harry asked.

"A lesser wizarding school in France," Theo answered. "Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago. Beauxbatons is only six hundred."

"Why?"

"The troll. Mother has heard about it and is absolutely furious; one, that a troll was able to even get _in_ the castle in the first place; two, that it took considerable time for the teachers to actually locate the beast; and three, that when informed that the troll was in the dungeons, Dumbledore dismissed the school to their common rooms. Well, as was said at the time, the Slytherin common room is in the dungeon. Mother thinks this shows that what the newspaper has been saying about him for some time now is entirely true.

"And of course, there's the fact that you went looking for the thing. She really wasn't impressed with that. I couldn't talk you three idiots out of going to look for it, and now I've got to go to sodding France? Where's the justice in that?"

Harry felt a flash of guilt. He could have tried harder to convince the others that it had been a bad idea.

"I have to go pack," Zabini said, still not sounding as though he believed it. "I'm to report to Professor Snape's office tomorrow at noon for her to collect me."

"Well that isn't a lot of time."

"Mother is quite insistent. It's been smashing to know you all, however briefly."

"Rum luck, Zabini," Draco said. "Sorry you've got to go to France. Do write us a letter and let us know how frogs' legs taste."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Worse than that, you're going to miss the Quidditch match."

"Merlin's balls!"

Blaise pushed his plate away and left the Great Hall.

"Still think going after that troll was a good idea, Theo?" Draco asked nastily.

"What else were we going to do?" Theo demanded. "We were already there. Someone had to stop it."

"We could've gotten the prefects."

"There wasn't time. Someone could have gotten hurt."

"Yes! Us!"

"You get too excited about these things, Draco," Theo said dismissively. "We're alive, aren't we?"

"No thanks to you! Don't you feel the slightest bit bad about getting Zabini yanked from school? We were just getting to know him."

"I'm very sorry about that, and while I wouldn't do it the same way another time-"

"Another time!"

"-the fact that we did beat it proves that I wasn't all that crazy, doesn't it?"

"We got lucky."

"Luck is for losers. I prefer to rely on skill."

* * *

The sky that Saturday morning was bright, clear, and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages, and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

Harry's stomach was filled with butterflies. Though the food smelled delicious, he couldn't eat a bite.

"You really should eat something, Harry," Draco told him as he spooned hot cereal into his mouth.

"I don't want anything."

"Have a bit of toast, at least," Theo urged him, holding the plate in front of him.

Harry's stomach roiled. He pushed the plate away. "No thanks, I'm not hungry." He felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the pitch.

"Harry, you need your strength." Millie was sitting next to him, forking eggs onto his plate.

"Yeah," Pansy chimed in. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered the worst by the other team, you know."

"Yes, so I've heard," Harry said dryly, his nervousness finding an outlet in sarcasm. He didn't touch the eggs.

As the next hour passed, Harry played disaster scenario after disaster scenario in his head. Despite it being Saturday, Theo had his nose in a schoolbook, keeping his eyes on the text as he ate with his right hand. Harry was the only one who wasn't trying to conceal laughter as Crabbe tipped an inkwell into Theo's hot tea; he was too preoccupied to notice. Everyone else watched eagerly as Theo took a sip from his cup.

"Blech!" Theo sputtered as he spat his tea out. He looked down into the cup. "Ink! Who did that?!"

Everyone burst out laughing. "It's not funny," Theo said, retching. "Someone is bloody well going to get hexed."

Pansy sniffed. "There's no need to use uncouth language," she berated him. "It's vulgar. Resorting to obscenities is the sign of a weak mind."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Tracy admired.

Draco snickered. "But you would have taken twice as long and used words that we couldn't understand."

Tracy glared at him and stuck out her tongue.

Theo had packed his book away. Glowering at everyone, he excused himself to go brush his teeth again.

Finally Marcus Flint came over and put his hand on Harry's shoulder, bringing him out of his fearful imaginings. "All right, Harry?"

Harry tried to answer, but all that came out was a croak. Flint grinned at him. "Not to worry, two winks after we kick off, you'll be moving too fast to be nervous. C'mon, let's go get you suited up."

"Good luck Harry!" everyone wished him.

Flint chattered amicably at him while they made their way down to the changing rooms. The rest of the Slytherin House Quidditch Team met them partway down: Miles Bletchley, Desmond Montague, Adrian Pucey, Ivan Bole, and Matthew Derrick.

Bletchley handed out uniforms as Flint, the oldest among them, used transfiguration magic to make all the bits the proper size. Harry and the rest began to change as Flint cleared his throat.

"Now then, men, we have a very important match in just a few minutes."

"Shocking," Bletchley interjected.

"We're currently in first place for the House Cup, and we have to keep that lead. Gryffindor is in third place, and not even winning this game can let them take first. But since we want to take the Quidditch Cup as well, again, for the seventh year in a row, we can't give them even a single break."

"Not even a broken bone?" asked Bole, sounding profoundly disappointed.

Flint grinned wickedly. "Okay, we can't give them even a single chance, and we try to give them as many breaks as possible."

Bole smiled beatifically, his expression matched by Derrick.

"Wood still hasn't managed to find a Seeker worth his salt, so Harry's going to have an easy time of it," Flint continued, giving Harry an encouraging grin. "I say we take advantage of that. Bole, Derrick, if their Seeker," he consulted his clipboard, "Lois Panning, gets anywhere near the Snitch, you take her out. Harry, I want you to keep out of the way as much as possible. That way we can rack up the points and bury Gryffindor's chances at taking either Cup this year. When we get, oh, say a hundred points up, then go after the Snitch. Unless I fly by and tell you otherwise, of course. Or, if you seriously think that we're in trouble, then go after it and win the game for us.

"Bole, Derrick, those Weasley twins are good Beaters, and they have experience. You'll be responsible for protecting the rest of us. Fly quick, and if you can take out either of them, do it.

"Pucey, Montague, we've got to go out there and out-fly them. The three girls Wood has flying Chaser are all lighter than any of us, so they're going to be quicker. We've practiced how to compensate for that, and I want to see you both using the moves I've taught you. I'm the experienced one, so they're going to be watching for me to take the lead on any aggressive action. We'll use that against them as much as possible. You both fly well, and I know you're capable of doing this."

Bletchley sniffed. "Oh, I can feel the love," he said, sounding totally sincere.

"Shut your noise, you," Flint snapped back good-naturedly.

"No words of advice for me, Flint? I'm crushed."

"Yeah, don't let the Quaffle get by you," Flint ribbed him. "For every time you let the Quaffle in, you have to buy me a butterbeer at the next Hogsmeade weekend."

Bletchley snorted. "Yah right," he scoffed. "How about no?"

Flint grinned again. "I've got a good feeling about this game. Let's go out there and show Hogwarts what Slytherins are made of."

"Yeah!" they all cheered, and picked up their brooms.

Harry caught sight of his reflection as they walked out towards the pitch. The emerald green robes of the House team looked good on him. With the protective equipment he was wearing, he even looked a little fierce. Harry drew that image into his mind and fixed it there.

The roar of the crowd greeted them as they stepped out of the tunnel. Slytherin supporters waved flags and shot firecrackers into the sky. Green and silver confetti drifted down.

"Harry!" It was Theo's voice and Harry turned, seeing him running up as fast as he could. "I think I've got something that can help you!" Theo said, breathing heavy. He drew his wand and pointed it directly at Harry's nose.

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded, slapping Theo's hand away. "Don't just point a wand at me!"

Theo's lips twisted in a wry grin. "A little tense, are we?"

"What do you want?" Harry snapped, irritation at the break in his concentration making him short with his friend.

Theo pointed his wand at Harry's nose again. " _Occulus reparo_ ," he intoned. Harry felt a jolt, almost like static electricity, strike his glasses. His nose tingled for a moment and he scratched at it. Then he pulled off his glasses to see that where he had previously used cello tape to hold them together in one piece, now the frames were whole, solid. The lenses were buffed to absolute smoothness, not a scratch in sight. They looked brand new, and Harry marvelled. The Dursleys had gotten his glasses secondhand, and they'd always been a bit beat up (and so had Harry, thanks to Dudley).

"I found that this morning. I would have had it at breakfast except someone put ink in my tea." He was obviously still hacked off about that.

"Thank you," Harry said, genuinely touched by Theo's gesture.

"You're welcome," Theo replied, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Can't have our Seeker unable to see properly, can we?" He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Best of luck, mate."

Harry walked towards the center of the pitch with the rest of the team. Both teams circled around the crate, taking their starting positions. Madam Hooch, who was refereeing, stood in the center with her broom in hand, glaring at them all.

"Now then, I want a nice clean game, all of you," she said, staring directly at Flint. His face took on an innocent expression.

"Mount your brooms!"

Harry straddled the smooth wooden handle of his Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch's silver whistle gave a piercing shriek. Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off!

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor. What an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too-"

"JORDAN!"

Harry didn't know the boy who was providing the play-by-play action, Lee Jordan, but Flint had warned Harry to pay him no mind. Though he was minded by the stern and impartial Professor McGonagall, Jordan still let his Gryffindor bias show.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet. She's a great find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve. She passes back to Johnson- no! Intercepted by Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint! He's heading up the pitch, he's flying like an eagle up there. He takes a shot- no, a fake throw and a pass back to Chaser Adrian Pucey. Pucey puts it through the far ring. Phooey, ten points to Slytherin."

Cheers rose from the Slytherins and their supporters. Howls and moans of dismay could be heard from the Gryffindors.

"Gryffindor back in possession, and Wood passes up to Chaser Katie Bell. She dives around Flint, she's in the clear, nobody around her- OUCH! She takes a Bludger to the back of the head sent by Beater Ivan Bole. That had to hurt. I hope she's all right. The Quaffle is scooped up by Dezzy Montague of Slytherin, and he passes to Pucey. He goes for the shot, no, he's blocked by a second Bludger sent by George Weasley. Or is it Fred? Nobody can tell these two apart, but nice play by the Gryffindor Beater in any case. Johnson in possession, clear skies ahead. Wow, she's really moving! She takes the shot, she's got it! No! How did he do that? Keeper Miles Bletchley pulls off some sort of miracle and manages to block a perfect shot."

Jordan sounded as dismayed as the rest of the Gryffindors who had all started to cheer in anticipation of the ten points. Slytherin supporters roared in approval.

"Slytherin in possession," Jordan continued. "Chaser Pucey dodges a Bludger, a Weasley, the other Bludger, the other Weasley, and Chaser Bell. Looks like nothing can stop him, and- wait a minute, was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Pucey dropped the Quaffle, busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had zoomed by him.

"Pucey!" howled Flint. "You're not the bloody Seeker! Keep your eyes on the Quaffle, you divvy!"

Harry saw it too; it was definitely the Snitch. His nervousness had vanished the second he'd kicked off, and now excitement filled him as he dove for the Snitch with a great whoop. Gryffindor Seeker Lois Panning had seen it too, and they converged right behind the Snitch. Neck and neck, they hurtled along at tremendous speed. The Chasers all seemed to have forgotten their jobs and hovered in mid-air as they watched the fight for the Snitch.

Harry was faster than Panning. He could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead. He leaned forward a tad more and began to edge away from Panning and her Cleansweep Six.

WHAM!

All the Slytherins called foul as a Weasley managed to "accidentally" get in Harry's way. Harry's broom spun off course, and Harry did his best to hold on. Madam Hooch had a harsh word for Weasley, but the Snitch had vanished again.

Bole aimed a Bludger at Panning, determined to hit her.

"Potter doesn't seem to know how to fly straight and nearly kills the Gryffindor Beater-"

"Jordan!"

"It could happen to anyone, I'm sure. No penalty shot, as there was no foul, and Gryffindor is in possession."

It was as Harry dodged a Bludger that had been rocketing towards his head that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he was convinced that he was going to fall, and his short life passed before his eyes. He gripped the handle tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. Harry was scared now. It was as though the broom were a wild horse that was trying to buck him off, but Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Something was seriously wrong. He tried to turn. He had to get a time-out called and figure out what was wrong with his broom.

He couldn't turn. Harry was near panicking now. The broom was completely out of his control. He wasn't able to turn. He wasn't able to steer. He couldn't direct the broom at all. It was zigzagging through the air, every so often making a violent swishing movement that nearly threw him off.

Jordan was continuing on as though nothing were wrong. "Slytherin in possession. Flint has the Quaffle, no Pucey, no Montague, no Pucey, these three are playing fast and furious. Looks like a Hawkshead Attack Formation to me, with Montague on the point. Flint tries to be a Beater and uses his face to whack a Bludger. Hope it didn't hurt him too much. But Montague puts the Quaffle away, oh no."

The Slytherins were cheering. They'd been making lots of excellent shots, and despite Wood's abilities as Keeper, had taken the lead. Nobody seemed to have noticed that Harry was in trouble. His broom was gradually carrying him higher and higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"What's Harry doing?" Theo asked as he peered through his binoculars.

"Has he lost control?" Millie said, instantly worried.

"He can't have," Draco said, puzzled. "He's a great flyer."

"Then what's wrong?" Pansy demanded.

Tracy shrieked as Harry's broom began rolling over and over to the side, with Harry just barely holding on. Then it bucked again and Harry was swung right off! He was holding on with only one hand!

"Did something happen to it when Weasley blocked him?" Daphne asked intently.

"No third year Gryffindor could cast Dark magic powerful enough to mess with a Nimbus Two Thousand," Theo disagreed. Then something occurred to him and he raised his binoculars. "I don't believe it," he said, his voice carrying his shock.

"What?" Millie asked, still looking up at Harry.

"Professor Snape is casting a jinx."

"What?" Pansy demanded, ripping the binoculars from his hands, nearly ripping Theo's nose off as well. "Where?"

"Ow, straight ahead," Theo replied, holding his nose.

"Well, I don't have Professor Snape, but I can see Professor Quirrell muttering something."

"Quirrell!" Tracy exclaimed. "What's going on here?"

"One of them must be casting the counter-jinx," Theo said, his voice sounding very odd. He was still cradling his nose.

"But which is which?" Millie asked, frustration clear in her voice.

"Which witch is which?" quipped Daphne.

"This is no time for jokes, Daphne!" Tracy half-shouted at her. "Harry's about to fall off!"

Flint had directed the other Chasers and the Beaters to fly a pattern below Harry, while he himself, the most experienced Chaser, tried to get close enough to snag his Seeker off the possessed broomstick. Each time he tried to dart at Harry, the broom kept rising higher, still Flint did not give up.

While the Slytherins were busy, the Gryffindor Chasers blitzed Bletchley with shots. He did his best to block, but was quickly being worn down, and Gryffindor's score began to catch up. Then Bletchley missed another shot, and the score was tied at sixty points.

"I'll take care of it," Goyle said, getting to his feet. "Move out of my way!" he bellowed, shoving anyone who dallied too long. Within seconds he was out of sight below the stands.

Goyle lumbered towards the section of the stands where the teachers were sitting. While the others would fret about details, Goyle had heard all he needed to. Either Snape or Quirrell was jinxing Harry's broom, and that meant they both had to be interrupted. He'd leave the figuring out of it all to those who were quicker of thought than he. If there was a man of action, his name was Gregory Goyle.

He finally reached the section roped off for staff members and guests of the school. He peered up through the slats. There was Quirrell, muttering away just as Pansy had said. He drew his wand.

" _Incendio_ ," he whispered, sending a small jet of flames onto his teacher's robes. He moved on, looking for Snape. Quirrell's robe would catch; he was confident in his own skill.

" _Incendio_ ," he whispered again, lighting Snape aflame as well. Then, sure that it would be enough, he turned and ran as fast as he could. He might be a little slow, but he was no fool to stick around.

"Quirrell, you're on fire!" someone shouted. Hagrid tackled him, smothering the flames with his own body.

"Severus too!" cried a female voice. Hands slapped at him, trying to extinguish the flames.

" _Aquamenti!_ " Professor Flitwick cried, drenching the Potions Master from head to toe.

Up in the sky, Harry's broom stopped shaking. He grabbed on with his other hand, clinging desperately, praying that it wouldn't throw him off. It stayed calm. He swung himself back and forth and managed to hook a leg over the handle. With a heave and a grunt, he pulled himself back up to the top and hugged his broom, breathing heavily.

"And Potter is ok!" Lee Jordan announced to the whole stadium. "Though I can barely see him, it appears that Harry Potter has managed to regain control of his broom. Whatever problem that wonderful Nimbus Two Thousand had with a sneaky Slytherin riding it has apparently been solved."

"Jordan!" snapped Professor McGonagall.

"And the score is tied at sixty points each. Come on girls! You can do it!"

The Slytherin Chasers dived at the Gryffindors in a perfect attack formation. Bell shrieked as Flint came lunging in, howling an insane warcry. He snatched the Quaffle from her and charged towards Wood, looking for all the world like a madman.

THWACK! came a hideous sound, as Bole and Derrick perfectly executed a Bludger Backbeat, sending the iron ball rocketing with insane momentum towards Wood.

Wood's eyes got wide, big as saucers. His face paled, becoming as white as the sheets in the hospital wing. His own Beaters were out of position. He swallowed visibly and tightened his grip, his knuckles whitening. He spun around and knocked the Quaffle away with the tail of his broom, then a half-second later, took the full brunt of the Bludger flush on his back. He cried out in pain and momentarily lost control, but he held on. Wood righted himself with effort, but drifted around like a drunk, clearly hurt.

Pucey scooped up the loose Quaffle and sent it soaring past a disabled Wood to score. Johnson gained possession, but was cut off by Flint, still howling his warcry, who stole it from her.

It was turning into a rout. Bole and Derrick had clearly incapacitated Wood, and without a Keeper, Gryffindor's chances were sunk. One of the Chasers might guard the rings, but she would not have Wood's experience. The two remaining Chasers could never beat three, not with the way Flint had gone insane.

Harry took it all in, watching as Bole targeted Panning yet again, and she barely avoided being creamed by the Bludger. They'd pretty much forgotten about Flint's instructions to nail her only when she got near the Snitch. If the Seeker was injured, their team couldn't win.

The stands began to murmur, the Gryffindor supporters clearly disgruntled with how the team was getting their collective clocks cleaned by the Slytherins. Many of them turned to leave, not wanting to see the end of it. Slytherin was a hundred points up, one sixty to sixty.

_Well, time to go to work_ , thought Harry as he looked about for the Snitch. _Good grief._ It was toying with Panning, hovering all near and around her, but Bole and Derrick were making it impossible to grab. Harry leaned forward and zoomed towards it.

Sensing danger, the Snitch tried to flee, but Harry had too much speed. Then, as he sped by, employing a tactic he wouldn't have expected from the honest-to-a-fault Gryffindor, Panning knocked her broom into his! Harry lurched forwards, came near to losing his grip again, and he instantly headed for the ground.

He almost crashed, but fell off and to his knees. He retched, gagged, and spat up something shiny into his hands. Tiny fluttering wings shot out of the little golden ball, and he wrapped his fingers around it.

"I've caught the Snitch!" he yelled.

The Slytherins and their supporters all let up a tremendous cheer. The whole team began to converge on him.

"Way to go!" Flint shouted in his ear, nearly deafening him. He picked Harry up and swung him around in a circle. Bole and Derrick bruised his shoulders with their slaps of congratulations. Pucey and Montague raised him up in the air.

"Let's hear it for Harry!" Bletchley shouted.

"He didn't catch the bloody thing, he swallowed it!" one of the Weasley twins was bellowing, clearly highly offended.

"Don't you dare call that Potter's Pass!" the other echoed. "That was the biggest mistake I've ever seen on a broom!"

"Bastards!" cried a still loopy Wood. "Miserable, sodding Belgian bastards!"

"The final score, after that completely unintentional um, er, catch by Potter puts Slytherin at three hundred ten, Gryffindor at sixty. Well, there won't be any celebrating in Gryffindor Tower tonight."

Harry and the rest of the team headed to the locker room and changed out of their robes. The boys had snagged Harry as he walked outside and pulled him behind Hagrid's hut.

"Harry, are you okay?" Draco asked instantly.

"I'm fine, just a little scared," he replied, the adrenaline rush beginning to fade away, leaving only weary exhaustion behind. "Where are the girls?"

"They went back up to the castle. I imagine they'll be very glad to see you're all right."

"Someone was jinxing your broom," Theo told him.

Harry's jaw fell open. "Jinxing my broom? How?"

"Not how, who," Draco corrected.

"It was Snape," Theo said, leaving no room for argument.

"Bollocks," Crabbe snapped. "Quirrell was casting too! I saw him with my own eyes, I did!"

"One of the two was jinxing and the other was counter-jinxing," Goyle explained to Harry. "We don't know which was which, so I set 'em both on fire to break their eye contact."

"So it were you!" came a booming voice. They all cringed and turned to see Hagrid standing there, arms folded, disapproval written clearly across his face.

"Hagrid, listen, please!" Harry begged him.

"Lightin' teachers on fire? What sorta Dark business are y'all about? Goyle is it? Well yer comin' up ter the Headmaster's office right now!"

"Hagrid, he was saving my life!" Harry cried. "Did you hear everything? Either Snape or Quirrell was jinxing my broom!"

"Rubbish!"

"Snape must know that I know he tried to get past the three-headed dog on Halloween," Harry said, desperately trying to persuade Hagrid that something funny was going on.

Hagrid's jaw dropped. "How'd you find out about that?" he asked, completely thunderstruck.

"We ran into the dog while running away from Filch one night. Then we saw Snape headed to the third floor on Halloween, and the next day he was limping and I found blood on the floor in the dungeon," Harry answered.

"Well, at least Fluffy's doin' 'is job," Hagrid said, looking pleased.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah, he's mine. Got him from a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. He's here at school to guard-"

"Guard what?" Theo asked, insanely curious.

"Never you mind."

"That package from Gringotts, right Hagrid?" Harry said, looking intently at the large man.

"What're ye doin' talkin' 'bout that, 'Arry?! I told yer, t'were secret Hogwarts business!"

"It wasn't hard to figure out something funny's going on, Hagrid, between what happened at Gringotts, the dog, the limp, the blood. Every one of these things is odd."

"From there we just used a little logic," Draco drawled.

Hagrid's face got dark. "All of yer had better just leave this puzzle alone. Yer meddlin' in things wot are none o' yer concern. Ferget the dog, ferget about the package from Gringotts. That matter's strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

"Flamel!" Theo said triumphantly.

Hagrid got red in the face. "Out o' here, all of yer! Back to the castle! Now!"

They ran.

As quickly as they could, they got back to the safety of the dungeons. Theo immediately headed to the dormitory and began digging frantically through his box of Chocolate Frog cards.

"Where is it?" he half-shouted as he rummaged.

"Where's what?" Draco snapped at him. He was irritated; Theo had been ignoring all questions for the past few minutes.

"He's got to be here!"

"Are you saying that Flamel is on one of your bloody cards?" Draco asked, clearly driven past politeness.

"I know he's on one! I just don't know where it is!"

"Good luck digging through that odd thousand," Crabbe chimed in.

"Yeah," Goyle said. He looked at Harry. "Should we go tell the girls what we found out?"

"Definitely," Harry agreed. "They're clever, and the more clever folks we have working on this puzzle the better."

Harry pulled his cloak around his shoulders and followed Goyle out into the corridor. "Goyle, I want to thank you for helping out today. You probably saved my life." Harry didn't talk with Goyle a whole lot, but the boy was clearly a good person, so that situation would have to change.

Goyle blushed slightly. "Aw, it was nothing," he said. "You're my friend, Harry. I know I'm not quick, but I had to do something."

"Well I definitely appreciate it."

Goyle grinned at him and clapped him on the back with a big hand. "You watch my back, I'll watch yours."

Harry tried not to wince as his knees nearly buckled. Goyle was a strong boy. He knocked on the door in the girls' half of the corridor with the plaque reading 'First Years'. There was a short delay, then Tracy opened the door.

"Harry!" she cried, her worry evaporating like morning dew. She threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. "We were so worried! I thought you would plummet to certain death!"

Harry made a muffled sort of noise; he had accidentally got a mouthful of her loose, golden blonde hair. He hugged Tracy back, hard. He had hugged her several times since their talk on the battlements so many weeks ago, and the hugs always felt nice. Now he would never turn one down.

Soon Millie, Pansy, and Daphne were also hugging him. Harry wondered how anyone could say that Slytherins were cold and uncaring. His friends were the best people in the world.

"You're not hurt at all?" Pansy asked him again.

"I'm fine," he said. "Thanks to Goyle, that is." Goyle started flushing again.

"This great lunk?" Daphne said, ruffling the big boy's hair.

"I just started a couple of fires," Goyle said, clearly not used to being the hero.

"But that's just what was needed." Millie turned to Harry. "That's how jinxes work, see. If you're casting a jinx, you have to keep constant eye contact. You can't even blink."

"Draco and Theo told me all about what they saw. No clue whether it was Quirrell or Snape?" Harry asked.

"None," Daphne sighed, sitting down on her bed. "I thought it was all a bunch of poppycock myself, but I saw Snape going muttery-muttery. Then I saw Quirrell going muttery-muttery. So I don't know what's going on."

"Well I've got a bit of a clue that might help us figure out what's on the third floor," Harry interjected. He related the name that Hagrid had let slip: Nicholas Flamel. None of the girls recognized the name; Harry saw a bunch of blank faces.

"Well," he sighed, "Theo is tearing through his Chocolate Frog cards. If this Flamel is at all important, he'll be on one of those cards."

"So what do we do in the meantime?" Millie asked. She pulled off her pointed hat and threw it on her school trunk in frustration. "Whoever it was might try again."

"What I don't understand is why you're all so ready to say that Quirrell is the bad guy," Goyle said, sounding confused. "Why would he be trying to kill Harry? He's not the one Harry saw sneaking around on Halloween."

The girls all looked back and forth at each other. Had they really overlooked that?

"Could Goyle have actually figured it out?" Pansy asked everyone. "Someone mark it down on the calendar."

"If it's not Professor Quirrell," Tracy declared, "then we must deduce that Professor Snape is the miscreant."

"But Snape seems to like me," Harry protested. "After the first week I think I became one of his favourite students."

"I thought I was his favourite. He's always writing positive comments in my homework. Does he do that with you too?" Tracy questioned. Harry nodded.

"Then we still don't know what the blazes is going on, do we?" Millie asked, still sounding frustrated. "It's still a big mystery."

"Guess so," Daphne said. "Oh well, at the rate we've been getting new clues, it won't be long now before Hagrid slips up and spills the tea."

Millie and Harry locked gazes. "He definitely knows what's going on," she said tentatively.

"No doubts," he said slowly.

"Do you think we ought to try to be a bit friendlier and see what information we can sneak out of him?" she asked him.

"Probably our best lead right now." Harry sighed. Hagrid had been decent enough, but he'd seen the big fellow drinking large quantities of wine every night at dinner. The rumours that Hagrid was a drunk were proving to be true.

"Are you actually suggesting spending more time with that foul-smelling ox?" Pansy sniffed derisively.

"Someone tried to kill me," Harry said firmly. "Before it was just a puzzle; now it's personal."

"Veracious!" Tracy cheered. "When someone takes on one Slytherin, they'd do well to remember that we travel in packs."


	12. Presents At Christmas

The month of November slid by with little notice. Classes continued, as they were wont to do. The weather turned colder, and snow began to fall nearly every day. Clouds regularly filled the sky, ruining their Thursday night sky-watching.

Professor Sinistra complained bitterly about the state of the night skies, but she could do nothing about the clouds. She tried to reschedule their night-time gazing, but in the end, she threw her hands up and said she just didn't care anymore.

Astronomy had gotten interesting again, now that they were no longer doing rote memorization of star constellations. Now they talked about the planets, still learning the names of the moons, and studying their orbits, as well as delving into the mythos.

They made no further progress on discovering the identity of Nicholas Flamel. Millie's idea of sneaking the information out of Hagrid hadn't yielded results yet. She and Harry had taken to having tea with the big man every Friday afternoon, but he always guarded his speech carefully. Hagrid knew what they were trying to do, but apparently couldn't bring himself to tell Harry to not come back.

Draco had put his foot down; he made it clear that under no circumstances would he be roaming around the school at all hours looking for clues. He'd had quite enough adventures, though he described them as near-death experiences, thank-you-very-much.

So the question of just what was hidden in the third-floor corridor became of less and less importance. The Slytherins became more and more occupied with Potions, Charms, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry's time was further taken up by Quidditch practice. He often returned to the dungeons more closely resembling a popsicle than a boy, and the others regularly came to watch the team practice.

Perhaps most important to the Slytherins was keeping their word, Millie's word, to the Sorting Hat. Every night they loitered in the entryway to the Great Hall, cajoling their fellow students to sign their petition. By the last week of November, they'd collected what Millie deemed to be enough signatures, and had turned the whole thing in to Professor Snape after Potions class.

He'd raised an eyebrow, though he knew about their petition as all the staff did, and it was a mark of his confidence in them that he merely nodded and told them that it would be in the Headmaster's hands by dinner. That evening, after the plates had been emptied, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet and cleared his throat.

"I have received a petition initiated by the first year students of Slytherin House for the formation of a school choir. Now as you know, music has a magic all to itself, so I'm very pleased to announce that on Monday evenings after dinner, the new Hogwarts School Choir will meet right here in the Great Hall."

The old man's eyes were twinkling. He seemed to be in jolly spirits. He sat down and raised his goblet to his lips.

The Slytherin table burst into applause, the first years especially. Professor Snape, sitting at the High Table, also clapped his hands, a faint smile on his face. The rest of the hall joined in the applause, some people with more enthusiasm than others.

The tables filled with pastry, and the students began to speculate on who would be directing the choir. The first year Slytherins smirked knowingly at each other. They all knew that the director would be someone the other students would never suspect. That part of the petition had been obscured by a Confundus Charm courtesy of Elan Malfoy.

That evening back in the common room, the first years were congratulating themselves on a job well done. Millie was the star of the hour, for it had been she who had started things off.

"Speech!" Theo called.

"Hear, hear, speech!" Daphne echoed.

Millie grinned and got to her feet. "My fellow Slytherins," she began, spreading her arms broadly, as if to hug the whole room. Everyone in the common room applauded. Millie's voice carried very well. Erika Chabré, a second year, let out a piercing whistle that bounced off the stone walls.

"I would like to thank you all for signing our petition," Millie continued. "It means so much to me, and to all of us, to know that our House fully supports us."

Cheers and catcalls rose up from her audience. The cheers were from those who had voluntarily signed the petition. The catcalls came from those who had been threatened by Elan Malfoy with a sound hexing.

"We hope that you will all follow through on your interest in a choir. We'll see you all at the first meeting." Millie bowed from the waist, with the applause of her House rising around her.

The show over, the students all settled back into their routine. Every so often the first years would hear someone speculating over the identity of the choir director, and they smirked at each other some more.

As the night wore on, the first years tried to get their homework finished and out of the way so they could enjoy the weekend worry-free. Theo finished his first and went to bed early, claiming a headache. Draco kept yawning every three seconds and finally closed his Astronomy book and headed for the dorm. Goyle made it to eleven o'clock before he gave up studying.

Harry was at the table until quite late, reading his Transfiguration text. He still struggled in that class and was determined to improve his grade. He didn't remember his other friends leaving the table, just as he didn't remember falling asleep. He only realized it when he was shaken awake by Jessica Conejo, sixth year prefect responsible for the first years.

"Harry?" she said softly. "Harry, wake up now. It's time to go to bed."

Harry mumbled something and came half-awake. He yawned, peering around in the shadowy darkness. The fire in the fireplace had near to burned out, and the lamps which normally gave off their warm green glow had been extinguished.

Jessica was waking Pansy and Daphne as well. There was no one else in the common room. Harry yawned again and rubbed his eyes. He'd been sleeping on his books and could feel the imprint on his face. He slowly picked them up and began thrusting them into his bag.

Pansy and Daphne waved goodnight and went down the corridor towards their room. Harry was still putting his things away, moving very slowly.

"Harry, are you all right?" Jessica asked him. He looked up into her dark eyes, her pretty face framed by her black ringlets of hair. She had cut it, he noticed absently. Now it bobbed around her shoulders.

"Just very sleepy," he mumbled. She must have understood him, because she picked up his bag for him. She took his hand and led him down the corridor to his dormitory. Goyle's snores could be heard even through the thick oak door.

"Here you are. I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Harry," Jessica whispered, and she planted a kiss on his forehead.

He stumbled into the room and dropped his bag by his trunk. He didn't even get his glasses off before he pitched face down onto his bed and began sawing wood.

* * *

The weekend passed in a lazy manner. For some inexplicable reason they hardly had any homework, so the Slytherins were able to relax and enjoy each others' company.

Harry was getting rather good at quickly shuffling a pack of cards. He had also learned how to play Gobstones, a game played with coloured stones that spat foul-smelling liquid at you if you lost.

The first years went to bed late and got out of bed late all weekend. The slight break was very welcome, and they all took advantage of the chance to rest.

So, when Monday came around, they were all bright-eyed and perky in Herbology. Even those who didn't enjoy the class as much as the others were able to find interest in the lesson about the poinsettia, a seasonal plant that had been adopted into the Muggle world -- as a Christmas 'flower', of all things.

"Aunt Petunia puts those things all over the house at Christmas time," he whispered to Draco as they scribbled down notes.

"Idiot Muggles," his friend said with a sneer. "The plant has loads of magical uses, and they use it as a bloody decoration."

After the Herbology lesson, they were off to naptime in History of Magic where Professor Binns droned on and on, as usual. Also as usual, the only person paying attention was Hermione Granger. Even though the Professor never asked questions, her hand would occasionally go into the air, and she would practically bounce on her seat, eager for attention.

Tracy amused herself by mocking the other girl constantly, whispering in Harry's ear. Harry, finding Granger's attitude to be entirely funny, was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud and shame the House. Draco and Theo were whispering to each other on Harry's other side.

After lecture, Granger stayed behind to ask Professor Binns a question. A couple of girls from Hufflepuff tried to catch her attention, but she waved them on, presumably to lunch. Theo and Draco took up positions outside the door to the classroom.

When Granger had finished her business, she shouldered her bag and left the classroom. Theo pointed his wand just as she was stepping through the door and cast a Tripping Jinx. Granger stumbled and fell to the floor.

Harry was a bit shocked. Making fun of someone was one thing, but attacking a fellow student was quite another.

"Ow, what's the big idea?" she demanded. She rolled off her stomach and sat up, staring up at the Slytherins with a mixture of anger and fear.

"Oops," Theo said, with vast insincerity. "I was just showing my mates here a new jinx I'd picked up. What are you doing getting in my way, Mudblood?"

Harry started to step forward to say something, but Draco silenced him with a warning look.

"Leave me alone!" she protested, getting to her feet.

"You think an awful lot of yourself, don't you, Granger?" Draco said in his drawling tone of voice. "You act awfully superior, for a Mudblood."

"I-I don't know what you mean," she said, biting her lower lip, showing her large front teeth. "Why can't you just leave me alone? I don't even know you."

"And we don't want to know you," Pansy said scornfully. "So why not get out of here?"

Granger began backing away. "You all should just leave me alone," she said again. "I'm glad this is the only class I share with you, because I don't like any of you. Don't think I don't hear you whispering about me! I don't care about not being a pureblood. I'm happy in Hufflepuff!"

Before anyone could respond, she turned and ran away down the hall. Pansy laughed at her until she was out of sight.

"That was fun!" she declared. "I needed that. Prissy little snot with her hand in the air like some know-it-all teacher's pet."

"Probably the only reason she hasn't brought Binns an apple yet is because he couldn't eat it," Tracy said, curling her lip.

"Speaking of food, it's time for lunch," Crabbe interjected.

"Thinking about food again, fathead?" Draco jeered at him.

"My head's not fat!"

Harry was quiet on the way to lunch. The scene from after History class was rankling with him a bit. On the one hand, by her own admission, Granger was happy in Hufflepuff. On the other hand, she was being terrorized by Draco and the others. He wrestled with it awhile, but finally shrugged it off. Surely no lasting harm would come of it. After all, Dudley had bullied him for ten whole years, and Harry was none the worse for wear. It had toughened him up.

 _Everything will work out_ , he assured himself as he bit into a sandwich. _Things always do._

* * *

That evening, the proto-choir remained in the Great Hall after dinner. There were about seventy students present, a turnout considerably larger than they'd expected. All the first year Slytherins were very pleased with themselves.

Professor Dumbledore came in through a side door, the Sorting Hat and stool in his hands. There was a murmuring sound as everyone wondered what was going on.

"Greetings, fellow musicians," the Professor said warmly. "I'm delighted that so many of you decided to attend. I hope you all enjoy your practice." He set the stool down, placed the Sorting Hat on top of it, and left.

There was dead silence. No one knew what to make of this twist. Then the tear in the Hat opened, and it began to speak.

"Good evening to you all! Thank you so much for coming to our first organizational meeting. I doubt we have enough time to practice any traditional holiday songs, so we're going to move right on into springtime music. Now then, I'd like all the young ladies who sing soprano here to my left, and those who sing alto to stand next to them. Young men who sing bass, here to the right, and tenors next to them. Boys! Please stand with the girls. Until your voices change, you'll be singing those parts."

Stunned, nobody moved.

"Come on now, come on. Don't just stand there, get organized!"

"This is insane!" A short Hufflepuff boy stepped away from the others. "This is a farce! I signed up for a serious choir! I'm not going to embarrass myself like this!" He walked out of the Great Hall. Several other students followed him.

"Anyone else think that this is all complete lunacy?" the Hat asked snappily.

No one answered.

"Right then. Does anyone have any requests for songs they'd like to sing?"

"Blow Away The Morning Dew," Tracy spoke up immediately.

"An old favourite!" said the Hat. "Someone else?"

"Sir Arthur and Charming Mollee," Theo contributed.

"A beautiful tune!" the Hat declared.

"England's Mountains Green," Millie spoke up, rather loudly.

"Not the proper title, but still excellent!" the Hat exclaimed. "Right! We'll also be doing This Is My Father's World, because I happen to like that song. I'll have sheet music for you all next week. For tonight, we're going to work on pitch and scales. First, warm-ups!"

The Hat hummed a note, then ran up four notes evenly and loudly, before running back down to the starting note.

"Now with me. Sing the notes with an 'ah' sound." Obediently, they 'ah'd up and back.

"Very good, very good," the Hat told them. "You there, Goyle. Move over to the tenor section please. Crabbe, you go with him. Again, everyone. This time starting one note higher." The Hat hummed and ran up four notes before sliding back down.

They followed, again making the 'ah' sound. They moved up one starting note, then another, and another, and another. Some of the older boys were having trouble reaching that octave.

The Hat kept going. Now none of the older boys were singing; their voices just didn't reach that range. Most of the girls and younger boys were still hitting the notes.

The Hat kept rising higher and higher, looking for the upper limit to the girls' voices. The last three still singing; a fifth year Gryffindor named Tiffany Trotter, a fifth year Ravenclaw named Penelope Clearwater, and a sixth year Slytherin named Elizabeth Archer, were singing notes far above the soprano range.

"Ladies, that was excellent! You'll be my leading soloists. Fawcett! You're no soprano. Get with the altos." Lynn Fawcett, a fifth year Slytherin, moved into the alto grouping.

"That was very good! Now we go down," the Hat declared. 

They started on that first note again, sliding up then down the scale. They dropped a note and continued. The girls and younger boys began to fall silent; the octave was too low for them. Again and again they went through the exercise, dropping the starting note each time.

The Hat kept dropping lower and lower, trying to find the boys' limit. A number of boys were still singing, especially Peter von Erickson, who was the most audible with his powerful voice.

"Superb!" the Hat crowed. "I thought I was going to be weeks whipping you all into some sort of decent group, but most of you seem to know what part you sing already. Delightful!"

The Hat quivered in apparent glee. "I think we're all going to have a lot of fun for the rest of the year. I look forward to our next meeting. I'll see you all next week!"

The choir dispersed, but the first year Slytherins remained behind. The Hat remained animated.

"I must say, Bulstrode, this was an entirely decent amount of fun. When I first proposed the idea, I wasn't at all sure it would happen. Oh," it said dismissively, "I knew you would do your part; Slytherins always keep their word. What I didn't expect was the turnout we had tonight and the level of skill those students have. I had an inkling, from what I've seen in their heads, but even I was stunned."

"You're quite welcome. You did your part; we did ours. Our bargain is concluded," Millie said.

"Quite right. I sense the Headmaster approaching, so I shall take my leave of you. You'd best get back to your dormitory. Good night!"

The Hat went still.

"Good evening!" Professor Dumbledore called out as he entered the Great Hall. His merry eyes were twinkling, and he was smiling. "Did you enjoy your choir meeting, children?"

"Yes, sir," they said more or less together.

"Good. I'm glad your petition was so successful. It's not often that we see such initiative amongst the students. I hope you'll all stick to it. Music is such a wonderful thing. I'm proud of you for organizing yourselves like this."

"Thank you, sir," Millie said, taking the credit that was her due, even if the Headmaster didn't know it.

"It's getting late," he noted. "It's nearly past my bedtime. I shall see you all at breakfast."

"Good night, sir," they chorused.

* * *

Christmas was coming. No one could wait for the holidays to start. Harry, and everyone else, was looking forward to taking a break from school. 

One morning in mid-December, the young Slytherins made their way to the Astronomy Tower to find the battlements covered with several feet of snow that had fallen in the night. Goyle employed his fire spells to melt a clear path. The lake had frozen solid, and the snow-covered hill beckoned all the students, who were waiting for the weekend.

The roaring fires in both the Slytherin common room and their individual dormitories made the House a cozy haven of light and warmth. Elsewhere, only the Great Hall was remotely comfortable. In the rest of the draughty castle, the corridors were ice-cold, and the bitter wind constantly rattled the classroom windows. Though the dungeons were made of stone and held the winter chill, the walls were solid, and neither snow nor wind could penetrate.

On the first day of December, Harry and his friends returned to the common room after dinner to find Professor Snape already there waiting for them. Harry figured that Snape must know a few good secret passages, because he thought their Head had still been in the Great Hall as they left.

"Good evening, first years."

"Good evening, Professor."

"You will all fetch your wands and meet me in the Potions classroom immediately."

Wondering what was going on, those who weren't already carrying their wands went to the dormitories to retrieve them.

"It would be wise to never be without your wand," Snape called after them.

When Crabbe, Goyle, and Daphne had returned, the first year Slytherins headed to the Potions lab.

"I have asked you here tonight so that I may pass on one of the secrets of Slytherin House. The weather has been getting colder, as you will have noticed. The castle can be quite draughty, and the dungeons in particular are very chilly. We are Slytherin, and our symbol is the snake. Cold does not affect the snake, and neither shall it affect any of you. The Self-Warming Charm is essential for you to know. With it, you will be able to handle the variations of temperature at Hogwarts. The incantation is 'Concalesco Ipse', and the wand motion is a simple tap to the head and heart."

Harry got the hang of the spell in a few minutes. Draco, Tracy, and Theo had similarly quick success. Millie and Daphne took a bit longer, as did Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy, the worst student at Charms, took nearly an hour, but Professor Snape never once lost his patience with her. Only when she could cast the spell with ease did he take his leave of them.

"Professor?" Harry said.

"Yes, Mister Potter?"

"Is it possible that I may stay at school over the holiday?"

"Yes. Sometimes circumstances do not allow a student to go home. I will be circulating a sign-up sheet within the next few days."

Harry let out a clenched breath. "Thank you, sir. I certainly didn't want to go back to my awful Muggle relatives."

Snape seemed curious, but he did not enquire, and Harry didn't volunteer. In the back of his mind, the suspicion that Snape might be a bad guy kept him from divulging lots of details.

Bad guy or not, though, Harry was very grateful to Snape for showing the Self-Warming Charm. It was practical, effective, and very clever. In the Potions laboratory the next day, the Slytherins watched with wide smirks as the shivering Gryffindors huddled close to their hot cauldrons.

* * *

Dear Harry,

We hope your school year is going well. Draco speaks quite highly of you, and we would like to invite you to join us for the Christmas holiday at Malfoy Manor.

Best wishes,

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy  
  
---  
  
 

"Brilliant," Harry said, showing the letter to Draco. "Now I don't have to stay at school."

"They didn't tell me they were going to invite you."

"It's not a problem, is it?"

"Not at all. I just didn't know. Good. You can help me prank Elan."

Professor Snape came to the common room that very night and called the house to order.

"If anyone is interested in remaining at school over the Christmas holiday, please come and sign this parchment. We will need to know how much food to prepare for the feast."

"Excuse me," Harry said to his friends. He went over to where Snape was sitting.

"Mister Potter, here is the sign-up."

"Thank you, sir, but it looks like I won't need to stay after all."

"Oh no, Mister Potter?" Snape asked curiously. "Just the other day, you were eager to stay. What has changed your mind?"

"Draco's father has invited me to the Manor, sir," Harry said happily.

Professor Snape, though, frowned slightly. "I'm afraid it's not as simple as all that, Mister Potter," he said.

"What's the problem, sir?" Harry asked, as his heart leapt into his throat. He desperately did not want to see his so-called family.

"To go anywhere other than home, the school must receive a notification of permission from a parent or guardian," Snape explained. "I advise you to write a letter home and ask for such permission, Mister Potter. Otherwise, the Headmaster will not allow it."

Harry's hopes fell. While the Dursleys would no doubt be glad to be rid of him for the holiday, there was no way they would give him leave to go home with another boy. They would not sign any such permission, just out of spite.

Harry walked back to his friends, and Draco must have seen the disappointment on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"I need permission to go home with someone else, but there's no way the Dursleys will ever let me."

"Muggles have no business telling a wizard what to do," Draco said firmly. "Surely there's a way around this."

"I don't think so. Snape told me I need their approval. I've never had it before; I don't see why they should suddenly give it."

"Chin up, Harry. Ask anyway. We'll go write that letter and get it sent off."

Sure enough, Arlette brought back a letter from the Dursleys written in Uncle Vernon's own hand in blue ink on blue-lined white paper. It forbade him to associate with any of his fellow 'freaks' and explicitly instructed the Headmaster to not let Harry leave the school grounds. When Harry read the letter, he crumpled it into a ball and bounced it off the floor of the Hall. Scowling up his face, he felt like he wanted to cry.

He stomped out of the Hall and headed for class. He was furious at the Dursleys and wished he had taken the opportunity to hex them before the start of school. Those miserable Muggles weren't his parents; they weren't even wizards. They had no right to tell him who he could and couldn't be friends with, where he could and couldn't go. It just wasn't fair.

His friends walked along with him. Nobody said anything; they all knew it must have been bad news. None of them noticed that Harry's drama and subsequent furious exit had all been observed by a pair of cool blue eyes, which were glinting maliciously.

The owner of those eyes waited until the Slytherin table was empty and crouched down to retrieve the crumpled ball of paper that Potter had, in his anger, discarded to the floor. A pair of large hands carefully smoothed out the letter. A grin to match the glint in those cool blue eyes spread across his face. He tucked the letter away in a pocket. It would come in very handy, of that he had no doubts.

* * *

"I do feel so sorry," Weasley said loudly as he walked past the Slytherin table the next morning at breakfast, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts because they aren't wanted at home."

Harry felt like someone had stabbed him with a knife. Draco jumped to his feet and turned around to see Weasley standing there. "What did you say, Weasley?" Draco demanded in a low, dangerous voice, absent the drawl he used when addressing Gryffindors. His left hand drifted near his wand.

Weasley had been even more irritating since the Quidditch match. He'd been disgusted that Gryffindor had lost so spectacularly and had tried to make people laugh by saying that a large-mouthed bass would soon be replacing Harry as Seeker. This made no one laugh except himself, because everyone was impressed with the way that Harry had managed to stay on his out-of-control broomstick. Jealous and bitter, now Weasley had found something better to taunt Harry about.

"I think you heard me just fine," Weasley said, a nasty smile on his face. He turned and walked off, leaving a fuming Draco to comfort Harry, who was near tears.

"I'll get him for that," Draco spat, his usual calm demeanor long since fled. "He's one to talk, that bastard. He might have a proper family, but they're all crowded together in one room."

Harry didn't say anything. Weasley's words had cut too deep.

The girls arrived at that point, and Harry immediately became the center of attention. When Draco and Theo had filled them in, they too were thirsty for revenge. Tracy put her arm around Harry, letting him burrow his face into her shoulder.

"We don't let this go," she said in an iron voice. "I want to hex him myself."

"We're all going to get a turn," Draco seethed, "and then he's lucky if I don't use my Potions knife to slit his throat. How dare he?"

"How did he find out?" Millie asked, looking fit to be tied. Her hands were shaking and clenched spasmodically. She looked like she wanted to hit someone.

"He must have found the letter," Theo said, cursing.

"Language!" Pansy reprimanded him.

"Go throw yourself off the battlements," he snarled back at her.

"I just want to go back to bed," Harry said, his voice muffled against Tracy's shoulder.

Daphne took his hand. "Harry, I know you don't want to face him right now, but you've got to go to Potions. Professor Snape won't let him get away with anything. I'll see if I can't say something to him before class."

Harry allowed himself to be led back down into the dungeons. He half-heartedly spoke the Self-Warming Charm with the others. He was numb, not feeling much of anything. He sat listlessly at his station with Tracy while Daphne and Draco knocked on Snape's office door and went inside.

The Gryffindors arrived, Professor Snape came out of his office, and the lesson began. They set to work on the Hair-Raising Potion. Harry didn't pay any attention to what he was doing. He did only what Tracy told him to do. Several times Professor Snape passed by their work station, and he appraised Harry with a long gaze, though he said nothing.

Longbottom and Weasley were at a work station together. The pair had worked in tandem ever since the other Gryffindors had realized that they were both hopelessly inept at Potions and that the rest of them stood a better chance of earning good marks by not being anywhere near either one of them. They lost Gryffindor many points, but that would have happened regardless.

Today, the pair managed to screw up even more than normal, and Weasley's cauldron began to lose its shape, melting and deforming. As the bubbling blue potion seeped out of the melting cauldron and down onto the floor, Snape finally snapped.

"Idiots!" he thundered at them. They were both trying to wipe hot potion off of themselves, and out of their hair, which was curling up into tight spirals like a poodle's.

"I have never in my entire career as a teacher seen a pair of students more incompetant than you two! Even your worthless, practical joker brothers, Weasley, have at least some idea of how to properly brew a potion. I'm disgusted by the both of you! Twenty points from Gryffindor for gross incompetence!"

"Sir-" Weasley began. Longbottom was cowering in fear.

"And detention!" Snape shouted him down. "You will remain after class and scour out every student's cauldron with a toothbrush! Be thankful it's not your own brush you'll be using."

Weasley was glaring daggers across the room at the Slytherins. He clearly suspected that they'd had something to do with this situation. Longbottom had melted plenty of cauldrons before; he himself had screwed up dozens of potions before, but neither of them had ever gotten detention for it. Weasley fumed, but that was all he could do; he had no proof.

* * *

Harry didn't go up to lunch with his friends; he crawled into bed and tried to forget about what a horrible day it had been. It was bad enough that the Muggles were interfering in his life, but now Weasley knew about his home life and would spread it all across the school. Why had he been so stupid as to leave the letter lying around? Why hadn't he torn it up or burned it or something?

His friends came back from lunch and attempted to jolly him into some semblence of good spirits, but they were unsuccessful. He would have been quite content to spend the weekend in bed as well, but Draco hauled him out of bed in the early evening.

"Professor Snape is in the common room," he told Harry. "He wants to know if you want to stay here at school over the holiday."

Harry nodded and tried to turn over and go back to sleep. "Harry, you've got to sign the list yourself. Snape said to bring you."

Grumbling, Harry got to his feet and pulled on his dressing gown. He followed Draco out to the common room where Professor Snape was seated in a chair by the fire.

"Sir," he said politely.

Snape appraised him with a cool eye. "You look horrible, Mister Potter. Surely Weasley's words can't have upset you that much."

"I'll be staying here at school, sir." Harry's voice was lifeless. He didn't want to talk about it.

Snape presented him with the list, and he scrawled his name on it with the quill that Draco handed to him. Then Draco took the list and penned his own name neatly below it.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Mister Malfoy?" he questioned.

"I'm not leaving him here by himself," Draco said firmly. "That just wouldn't be proper."

The parchment was rolled up and disappeared into Snape's sleeve. "As you wish, Mister Malfoy. Good evening to you all."

"Sir," they said in response.

"Draco, your father is going to have kittens when he finds out about this," Pansy warned him. She had been working on her Potions homework nearby.

"I don't care," Draco snapped. "Let him have a fit. I told Harry that he'd be spending Christmas with me, and I mean to keep my promise. If Father doesn't like that, he can sod off."

Draco's kind gesture sliced right through Harry's melancholy. Who cared what that gutter snipe Weasley thought? At least Harry had friends who cared enough to stick by him. Professor McGonagall had told them that while at Hogwarts, their House would be as their family. The hell with the Dursleys; Slytherin was all the family he needed.

"Bugger Weasley," he said, "and thank you, Draco." He put his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed slightly. "You're a true friend."

Draco grinned at him. "You're not so bad yourself."

When they went up to dinner, the Great Hall looked fantastic. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and a full dozen Christmas trees stood around the room. Some of the trees sparkled with tiny icicles; others glittered with hundreds of candles. Another tree was decorated with thousands of golden bubbles.

"Wizards are a bit more creative at holiday decorations," Harry said as they sat down.

"What do Muggles decorate with?" Millie asked curiously. None of them except Harry knew the slightest thing about living like a Muggle.

"They've got all sorts of ugly plastic stuff," Harry told her. "Useless, gaudy, and tacky, every bit of it."

"Trumpery?" Tracy asked, for she knew many words.

"If you say so," Harry laughed.

"What's plastic?" Theo asked, confused.

Harry thought about it for a minute. "It's, er- it's," he couldn't find a good way to explain it. "It's a Muggle thing," he finally settled on. "Don't worry about it."

"A Muggle thing," Pansy sniffed. "That says quite enough."

"So are you looking forward to the holiday?" That was Abraham, and he sat down with them. They wouldn't be seeing him for several weeks, and Harry knew that he would miss the older boy who had guided them and looked out for them. He'd miss Jessica too, who always had a smile and a kind word for any of them.

Harry was indeed looking forward to the holiday. Though he had been denied his first choice of visiting Malfoy Manor by the Dursleys, at least he wouldn't be forced to see those horrible Muggles. The Christmas feast at Hogwarts was likely to be a thousand times better than anything he ate at Privet Drive.

With no classes or schoolwork to occupy him, Harry thought he might devote some time to trying to find out who Nicholas Flamel was. The library would be open during the break, so he could roam at will amongst the stacks. Maybe one of his friends would be able to find out from their parents. With nothing vital to do, the mystery was sure to grate on him.

At breakfast the next morning, Elan Malfoy sat down next to his brother and reached for the sausages.

"All packed and set to go?"

"I didn't tell you?" Draco replied. "I'm staying here at school."

"What?" Elan sounded completely flabbergasted.

"Yes. Someone has to keep Harry company."

"What do you mean keep Harry company? Harry's coming home with us. Father said."

"Father invited him, yes, but Harry's worthless Muggles said no. He's got to stay at Hogwarts, and I'm staying with him."

"Father's going to be angry. You know how much he likes the family to be together for holidays."

"Father will just have to deal with it," Draco said, not sounding concerned at all. "I'm not letting Harry spend Christmas alone. We're the only ones in the house to sign up."

Elan looked troubled at that. "I suppose that's a good thing. You'll have to tell him yourself, though. I'm not going to get yelled at over this."

"No one's asking you to. I'll take care of Father."

The first years had a bit of an emotional parting after breakfast was finished. Every girl hugged both Harry and Draco, the only two who were remaining at the school. Millie had hesitated to hug, and Harry saw her start to offer her hand to shake, but she set her jaw and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing the breath out of him. Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle all shook hands, and Harry feared he might never write with a quill again, so strong were the bigger boys' grips. After breakfast, Harry and Draco were all alone in Slytherin House.

They sat by the fire talking long into the night, and when they rose, the sun was already well up in the sky. With nothing else to do, by day they searched the library for information on Nicholas Flamel. The library was as unyielding of information as Hagrid had been, but still they kept at it, browsing the stacks, leafing through any book that looked promising. By night, they shared stories and spent hours talking about nothing at all.

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the feast the next day. He wasn't expecting a visit from St. Nicholas, nor did he expect any presents. He'd never gotten presents before, so when he woke in the morning to find a pile of brightly-wrapped packages at the foot of his bed, he was very shocked. Looking at the tags, he saw that they were from his friends and their parents. It brought a tear to his eye.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," mumbled Draco, who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown. "You too, Happy Christmas. Great Scot, I've got presents!"

Draco was yawning. "Of course you got presents. Did you think we'd all forget about you?"

Harry felt his cheeks burning. "I've never gotten presents before," he said in a low voice.

"What?" Draco asked, still yawning. "What'd you say?"

"I said I've never gotten presents before," Harry spoke up, his cheeks still flushed.

Draco stared at him. "Those bastards!" he exclaimed, and Harry knew he meant the Dursleys. "Well bugger them; open your presents."

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was a decent sized box wrapped in shiny silver foil. The tag was from Daphne's parents. He tore it open to find several tins of polish and a polishing cloth. The note inside said, "For broom and wand." He smiled. A practical gift, but very suitable.

His next parcel was wrapped in shiny green foil, and it was from Theo's dad. Inside was a tooled leather wand sheath. The intricate designs ensnared the eyes. He put it with his robes immediately.

The next package was from Goyle's mum and dad and contained a fine set of Gobstones. That was excellent; now he wouldn't have to borrow a set if he wanted to play. Draco immediately challenged him to a game after breakfast.

Crabbe's parents had given him a pair of matched raven-feather quills and an inkwell filled with silver ink. He didn't know that he'd ever have cause to use the ink, but the quills were very nice.

Pansy and her parents had bought him a subscription to the Daily Prophet. He'd mentioned several times that he ought to get the paper, and now he was saved the trouble.

Crabbe and Goyle had jointly bought him a cardboard box and filled it with candy. There were Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizbees, and other things he'd never heard of before. Even the snack trolley on the Hogwarts Express didn't have most of this stuff. He nibbled on a sugar quill.

From the Davises and Bulstrodes, there were a dozen boxes of new clothes. Harry looked down at his tatty hand-me-downs and flushed red.

"They could have been a bit more subtle about that," Draco commented, looking up from his own presents.

"These rags," Harry said, absolutely disgusted with them. He immediately pulled them off and donned some of his new trousers.

"The green shirt with that," Draco said absently, lost in the design work of a polished, wooden wand case.

When Harry had dressed himself properly, he looked in the full-length mirror. "Very nice," it told him. "What a smart-dressed young man, you are. Now if only you could do something about that hair..."

"I can't believe this pile of clothes," Harry exclaimed. "This must have been all so expensive! It's too much!"

"Did you forget that Millie's mother is a fashion designer?" Draco asked, finally tearing himself away from the wand case. "It was probably nothing for her to get all that. She's good friends with Missus Davis too." He held up one of the tags. "See? And I bet Tracy helped out with choosing most of this."

Harry picked up a letter, in a Muggle envelope. There was no parcel attatched to it. Inside the envelope was a note. He unfolded it and began to read.

 

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.  
  
---  
  
 

Taped to the note was a fifty-pence coin.

"That's friendly," Harry said as he showed the note to Draco.

"What's this?" Draco asked, peering at the coin.

"Muggle money," Harry told him, "and not all that much of it, either. You couldn't even buy two sweets with that."

"Stingy bastards, aren't they? Still, it's rather interesting to look at." Draco was a bit fascinated by the coin.

"Keep it then," Harry said, laughing. "Happy Christmas, Draco."

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

There was only one parcel left. Harry picked it up and noted that it felt very light. He tore the paper off. Something fluid and silvery grey went sliding to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Draco looked stunned.

"What is it?" Harry asked, picking it up. It felt strange to the touch, like water had been woven into the fabric.

"That's an invisibility cloak," Draco said in awe. "They're really valuable, take forever to make. They're expensive and rare. What's the note say?"

"Note?" Sure enough, a note had come with the cloak and fallen to the floor. Harry seized it. It was written in a narrow, loopy script that he'd never seen before.

 

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It's time it was returned to you. Use it well.

A Very Happy Christmas to you.  
  
---  
  
 

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Draco had picked up the cloak and pulled it around his shoulders.

"Woo, I'm a floating head!" he said. True enough, it seemed as though his head was floating there in mid-air. The rest of his body was invisible. "Father's got one of these, but I've never even been allowed to touch it," Draco said wistfully. "You sure are lucky." He pulled the hood up over his head, and he vanished from sight completely.

Harry felt very strange as he stared at the note. "Harry, what's wrong?" Draco asked, pulling off the cloak.

"Nothing," he replied. Who had sent it? Had it really belonged to his father? What did the note mean? "C'mon, let's have a shower and get up to the feast."

Harry had never in his life seen such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roasted potatoes, boiled potatoes, mashed potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas; silver boats of thick, rich gravy; cranberry sauce -- and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table.

The wizard crackers were fantastic party favours that were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones that Harry was used to. Draco invited him to pull the first with him, and it didn't just pop, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them in a cloud of blue smoke. Instead of cheap plastic toys and flimsy paper hats, inside was a pirate captain's hat.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. One of the Ravenclaw boys they were sitting with (if not for Harry and Draco, the Slytherin table would be empty) nearly swallowed a silver Sickle that was hiding in his slice. Harry watched disapprovingly as, up at the High Table, Hagrid got redder and redder in the face and kept calling for more wine. Then, to his amazement, he kissed Professor McGonagall on the cheek, and she giggled and blushed like a young girl.

During pudding, a large eagle owl came swooping in and landed right on the table. It was not Arlette.

"There's no letter," Harry said, very confused.

Draco was grinning broadly. "That's my present. Well, mine and my folks' anyway. You're always borrowing my owl, so I figured you needed one of your own."

Harry was truly touched by this thoughtful gift. "Thank you, Draco. She's wonderful."

"He," Draco corrected. "He doesn't have a name; that's your job. Come up with something good, will you?"

Harry promised that he would do just that. When they finally left the table, he was laden down with his new owl and a stack of toys from the wizard crackers. He was now the proud owner of a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, and sixteen marble figures that Draco told him was a complete set of wizard chess pieces.

"How can it be complete? Where's the other side?"

"Well you need an opponent, right? He'll bring his own pieces."

The Weasley clan had remained at school for the holiday. Neither Harry nor Draco had said anything about it, preferring to just avoid Weasley altogether, but now Harry tugged on Draco's sleeve as they left the Hall.

"Let's wait for him," he said. It was obvious who he meant. "I've got a couple of things I want to say to that prat." Harry was still angry over the way Weasley had taunted him about his parents' deaths.

"Hey, Weasel," Harry sneered as the red-headed boy headed for the stairs. Weasley stopped and turned around. He was alone.

"Well, looks like a couple of snakes are braving the sunlight," Weasley sneered back, just as obnoxiously. "Shouldn't you be underground eating live mice or something?"

"Shouldn't you be not here?" Draco asked in his drawl.

"Yes, what's the matter, Weasley? Got no proper family that wants you at home?" Harry threw Weasley's own words back in his face. "What is that ridiculous thing you're wearing?"

Weasley was wearing a lumpy, hand-knitted maroon jumper. It was quite possibly the ugliest thing Harry had ever seen, though he would have taken it over his old rags any day. Weasley flushed red.

"Shut up, Potter," was all he said, before turning away and heading up the marble stairs.


	13. The Mirror

After the Christmas feast, Harry and Draco went outside to go sledding, sliding down the hill onto the lake over and over, until their legs had turned to rubber, and their cheeks were rosy with the cold. Dinner was a casual affair of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake. Back in the common room, they sipped hot chocolate, and Draco began teaching Harry how to play wizard chess.

That night, after Draco had fallen asleep, Harry sat in bed, wide awake. He couldn't sleep. He still wondered who had sent him the invisibility cloak. He pulled it out and held onto it. It was smoother than silk, light as air. This had belonged to his father. Forget how rare they were, forget how costly; it had been his father's.

He had to try it out. Now. He slipped out of bed and pulled it around his shoulders. Where he should have seen his legs, he saw only moonlit shadows. It was a queer feeling.

The note had said, 'Use it well'.

An invisibility cloak was used to become invisible. He started with realization. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak! Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in darkness and silence. He could go anywhere with this cloak, anywhere at all, and Filch would never know.

Draco mumbled something in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? No, he decided. Not the first time; not with this cloak that had belonged to his father. This time, the first time, he wanted to go alone.

He quietly left the room and walked down the corridor to the common room. He bolted across the room and out through the stone wall. Where should he go? He didn't know. He walked randomly, as silent as a ghost. He saw a few of the ghosts out and about, but he said nothing to them.

He was near the library now. It was pitch-black through the doors and very eerie. He looked in at the tall bookshelves that held so much knowledge but hadn't helped them discover the answers they needed. Flamel's name was nowhere to be found in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was also missing from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. Those were only a few of the tomes the library held amongst the thousands and thousands of books.

Harry had been wondering for a time if they might ever find Flamel's name in the library. They dared not ask for help. In the library proper, it seemed a fruitless task. That last phrase jangled around in his head. The library proper...

Was it possible that information on Flamel was in the Restricted Section? He'd never looked there; you needed a specially signed note from a teacher to even look in any of the restricted books. As soon as the idea occurred to him, he knew it must be correct. In his mind, he could picture the velvet rope that warded off the forbidden books at the back of the library. Did he dare? He _was_ invisible. 

He grabbed for a lantern and lit the wick with a quick charm.

"Who's there?" came a voice. Filch! He'd seen the light! Harry dropped the lantern and ran. He might be invisible, but a floating lantern was enough to make even Filch suspicious, and he'd probably wake the Headmaster.

Filch's footsteps drew near, and Harry almost ran into him. He could see the caretaker's pale, wild eyes searching in the darkness, but they glided right over Harry. He ran, as silently as he could manage.

He came to a sudden halt near a tall suit of armour. He had been so busy getting away from Filch, that he hadn't paid any attention to where he was going. It was like the night of the duel all over again. The darkness made it impossible for him to tell where he was. There was a suit of armour near the kitchens, he knew, but he was at least five floors above there.

"Glad I found you, Professor. Professor Snape asked me to let him know if anyone was wandering around at night, but you'll do just as well. It seems someone's out of bed and tried to get into the library. I found this lantern dropped on the floor, and the wick was still burning. I've no doubt he ran for fear of his life."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer. To his complete shock, it was Professor Quirrell's stuttering voice that answered, "L-lantern? L-library? P-p-probably an older s-student t-t-trying to raid the-the-the Restricted S-s-section. I t-tell them they're n-n-not ready, but t-t-they are y-young and think they are im-im-im-immortal."

Quirrell? Sure enough, the Professor and Filch came around the corner, as Harry stood rooted to his spot. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor, and if they came much closer to him, they'd crash into him for sure. He wasn't immaterial, after all.

"We'll catch 'em, oh yes, we'll catch 'em. Hang 'em up in the dungeons and let 'em have a good screamin' we will, oh yes."

He backed away as quickly and quietly as he could. He could see a door ajar to his left. It would have to do. He squeezed through it, thankful for being skinny, and eased the door shut behind him after they'd walked by. He listened to their footsteps fade away. That had been too close for comfort.

The room looked like an unused classroom, of which there were dozens around the school. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket. None of that mattered when he saw the highly unusual object in the room. It looked out of place, as though it were just here because there was nowhere else to put it.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Now that Filch and Quirrell had walked away, his panic was fading, and his natural curiosity was growing. What was this mirror? Why was it here? He stepped closer, wanting to look at himself from under the cloak. He stood in front of it and gasped.

Harry had to clap his hands to his mouth to keep from screaming. He spun around, staring wildly into the shadows. His heart was in his throat, for in the mirror, he was not alone.

He saw no one. The room was empty. He took a deep, slow breath, trying not to hyperventilate. He turned back to the mirror.

There he was, looking pale and frightened. Also there, reflected in the space behind him, were at least ten other people. Harry looked over his shoulder, but he was still alone. Were they all invisible too? Was he going mad? What trick was this?

He looked back at the mirror. A woman was standing right behind his reflection; she smiled and waved at him. He reached out his hand and felt only the empty air. If she was truly there, then he should have felt her, so close were they standing in the mirror. He felt nothing. She and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair, and her eyes were just like his. He leaned in closer to the mirror. Their eyes were bright green, identical in shape, but she was crying. She smiled at him, but she cried nonetheless.

The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. The man wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did. The jawline, the cheekbones, all identical.

"Mum," he whispered, not daring to believe it. "Dad?"

They did not answer. They only watched him, smiling. Harry saw pride on both their faces. He felt weak all of a sudden, and he looked at the other faces in the mirror. Here he saw a pair of green eyes; there he saw a nose like his own; a little old man at the back even had Harry's knobby knees. He could have wept; he was looking at his family for the first time in his life.

The Potter family smiled and waved at him, and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass. Would that he could pass through and reach them. He felt a terrible ache inside him; half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stayed there he could not have said. The reflections did not fade and kept him company until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here; he had to get back to the dungeons. He tore his eyes from his mother's wistful face with a sort of wrenching agony. He pulled the cloak about his shoulders, and saw his father wink at him. A tear rolled down Harry's cheek.

"I'll come back," he promised, and he fled before he lost his strength. He ran as quickly and silently as he could. It took him several minutes to even figure out where he was. He took the quickest way back to the dorm he could find, praying he wouldn't run into Filch or Quirrell again.

When he was back in the dungeons, Professor Snape's domain, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe. He slid back the blank stone wall and stumbled inside, falling back against the wall as it closed behind him. He was home free.

Physically worn-out, emotionally drained, and absolutely exhausted, Harry collapsed onto his bed. He wanted to wake Draco and tell him all about the mirror. Just gotta catch my breath first.

When he opened his eyes, the sun was shining brightly through the picture window. He had neglected to close his curtains last night; how careless. He glanced over to see that Draco's bed was empty. Harry sat up. He had to find Draco, had to tell him about the mirror. His parents!

The door to the dorm opened and Draco sauntered in. "Good morning," he said casually. "You might be able to make breakfast if you run."

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed.

His friend frowned at him slightly. "Yes, for these past eleven years, six months, and nineteen days."

Harry jumped up from bed and grabbed Draco in a hug. Draco sputtered and stepped back. "Geroff! Harry, what's gotten into you?"

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed again. "I made the most incredible discovery last night!"

"Did you go for a walk in the new cloak of yours?" Draco demanded, quickly putting two and two together.

Harry nodded rapidly. "I wound up by the library where I was about to go looking through the Restricted Section for Nicholas Flamel but Filch came by before I could look and I ran away but he took some shortcut because he'd found Professor Quirrell and they were searching for me so I ran and wound up in this room and there's this mirror and," he took a deep breath, "I saw my parents!"

Draco's jaw dropped. "You saw your parents?" he said, completely stunned. "Were they -- alive?"

Harry shook his head quickly. "No, I could only see them in the mirror. I could see myself, but they were standing right behind me. I saw other people too, and I think they were the rest of my family, because I saw people with my eyes, my nose, my face. I have a family, Draco!" His hands were shaking.

Draco clasped his shoulders. "Harry, that's wonderful. I'm happy for you, mate."

"They looked so proud of me," he said wistfully, picturing his mother's happy tears and the unmistakable look on his father's face. "I'm not alone anymore. Oh, they're not here, but I feel them now. I feel like I know them."

Draco squeezed Harry's shoulders tightly. He didn't say anything else. The blissful look on Harry's face said it all. "I'm going back tonight," he said, his mind made up. "You can come along if you'd like."

Draco shook his head. "Oh no, no more adventures. I already told you that."

"Suit yourself." Harry wasn't the least bit bothered. All he could think about was the coming night and the mirror that showed him his family. He didn't go up to try to catch breakfast. Though he went up to lunch, he didn't eat anything. When Draco suggested going to the library and continuing the search for Flamel, Harry thought it a waste of time. To ideas of playing chess, playing gobstones, or going sledding, he took no interest. He was going back to the mirror tonight; that was the important thing.

When the bell tolled midnight, he pulled the invisibility cloak out from under his bed and wrapped it around his thin shoulders.

"So you're going," Draco said flatly. He hadn't said anything against Harry's plan all day. Now he seemed to have found his tongue.

"You can't stop me, Draco," Harry said emotionlessly.

"I don't want to stop you," Draco told him. "This is your parents we're talking about. I have no illusions about persuading you not to go, but someone's got to look out for you. That someone is me."

Harry smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Draco. I knew I could count on you."

"Aww heck," Draco drawled, "you're gonna make me blush."

So they walked off, both of them under the invisibility cloak. It was slower going, since they had to walk in step. It took a bit, but they eventually were able to synchronize. It helped that Draco could hum very softly, and the melody kept them in time.

Harry tried to retrace his route from the library, but he must've forgotten a turn somewhere, because they wandered around for nearly an hour.

"This is getting us nowhere," Draco declared quietly. "You've obviously missed a turn somewhere, and we've been walking forever. We'll try again tomorrow."

"No!" Harry hissed. "I know it's here somewhere."

They saw the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw nothing else. Just as Draco was mentioning that his feet were developing blisters, Harry spotted the suit of armour.

"It's here! Right over here! There's the door!" They pushed the door open, ducked inside, and shoved it closed. Harry flung off the cloak and ran to the mirror. His mother and father were there, and they beamed at the sight of him.

"There they are," he said softly. "See?"

"I can't see anything," Draco told him.

"Look! Right there! There's so many of them!"

"I can only see you," Draco said.

"Look in in properly," Harry said, dragging Draco to the place where he was standing. His family vanished, and all he could see reflected in the glass was Draco in his dressing gown. Draco's eyes widened.

"You see them!" Harry cheered.

Draco stared wide-eyed into the mirror. "Look at me," he whispered.

"What do you see?" Harry asked him. "Do you see your family?"

"It's me," Draco breathed. "I'm older though. I look like Elan, but I'm not a prefect like him. I'm Quidditch Captain! You're there too, Slytherin's star Seeker. There's Millie and Theo, and we're all Chasers. We've stomped Gryffindor into the ground and taken the Quidditch Cup! Weasley's lying on the pitch bawling his eyes out!"

Harry didn't know what this meant. It had shown him his family, but had shown Draco a vision of the future. It made no sense. "Move over," he said. "I want to look again."

"You had it all last night," Draco said, not budging.

"You're just holding the Quidditch Cup," Harry argued. "What's so interesting about that?"

"I'm watching Weasley bleed his life out onto the grass." Draco was staring deep into the mirror.

"I want to see my parents." Harry stepped closer, ready to shove his friend out of the way. The ache in his chest was back.

"Don't shove me --"

A sudden noise in the corridor put an end to their discussion. Scarcely daring to breathe, Harry realized they'd been talking very loudly.

"Under the cloak!" Draco snapped, grabbing for it. They were just in time, as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Harry cursed to himself; why had they left the door open? Draco and Harry stood quite still, trying desperately to not make a sound. Did the invisibility cloak work on cats? She stared into the darkness for what seemed like ages. Then, without so much as a sound, she turned and left.

"She went for Filch," Draco said at once. "We're not safe here. Back to the dorm at once." He grabbed hold of Harry's sleeve and tugged his friend from the room.

* * *

The snow was still falling the next morning. Harry hadn't slept well. All he could think about was the mirror. Draco watched his friend throughout the day, noting that Harry was reticent.

"Harry, do you want to play chess? You were doing very well the other day." He hadn't been.

"No thanks." Harry's voice was listless.

"Gobstones?"

"No."

"You're thinking about that mirror, aren't you?" Draco accused him. "You're going back there tonight!"

"Maybe."

Draco sat down on Harry's bed. "I think that's a mistake," he said, looking directly at Harry. "Filch is out there. Mrs. Norris too. You said that Quirrell was wandering around. You heard Filch say that Professor Snape has an interest in knowing who's out of bed. Harry, trust me. Going out of the dorm again tonight is a bad idea. Stay here."

Harry shook his head. Draco had parents; he couldn't possibly know what it meant to Harry to see his family. He was going back to the mirror tonight.

Draco kept a close watch on him all day. When the bell finally tolled curfew, Harry reached under his bed and pulled out his cloak. He was about to pull it over his head when Draco clamped a hand on his forearm.

"This is a bad idea," Draco said. "You're risking detention, losing points, and shaming the House. You're not thinking. Remember what Snape said about having good reasons for the things we do?"

Harry shook his friend's hand off. "I'm going," was all he said before he pulled the cloak on and vanished.

"Harry! Damn it, Harry!" Draco groped in the air, trying to catch ahold of the cloak. Harry ignored him and slipped out to the common room and into the corridor.

He found his way more quickly than the night before. He was walking rapidly and making noise, but he didn't meet anyone. So long as he could stop silent whenever he encountered someone, they'd probably think it was a ghost or Peeves or something else.

His mother and father were smiling at him again when he stepped up to the mirror. One of his grandfathers waved at him, and Harry sank down to sit on the floor. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. He could be blissful now.

"So, back again, Harry?"

The voice startled him, and he felt his insides turn to ice. He turned to look behind him and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting on one of the desks by the wall. Harry must have walked right past the man without noticing, so desperate had he been to get to the mirror.

"Good- good evening, sir. I didn't see you there."

"Strange, isn't it, how being invisible can make you nearsighted," the headmaster said, and Harry was relieved to see that the old man was smiling. He got up from the desk and sank down to sit next to Harry on the floor. "I see that you, like so many hundreds before you, have discovered the wonders of the Mirror of Erised."

"Is that what the script on top says, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Very observant, Harry. I trust by now you've figured out what this mirror does?"

"It shows me my family, sir."

"Ah yes, and your friend Draco, what did he see?"

"He saw himself as Quidditch Captain. We'd won the Quidditch Cup, and the House Cup too." Harry didn't understand where the old man was going with this.

"Now then, can you think of what it is that the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" Dumbledore's face was very serious.

Harry had no idea. He shook his head.

"Let me explain, then. The happiest man in the world would look into this mirror and see only himself exactly as he is. For him, the mirror would be perfectly ordinary. Does that help?"

Harry thought. His forehead wrinkled in concentration. "It shows us what we want? Whatever we want?"

"Almost," Dumbledore said gently. "This mirror shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire in our hearts. Draco Malfoy sees himself succeeding in a way that his older brother has not, at Quidditch. He sees the sport as a way to distinguish himself. You, Harry, have never known your family, so you see them standing all around you, proud of you."

Harry's eyes filled with tears. What a cruel mirror. It wasn't real, any of it. He wanted to cry, but Dumbledore was still talking.

"This mirror gives neither wisdom, nor truth, Harry. Men have wasted away staring into this mirror. They become entranced by what they see. Others have been driven mad, not knowing if what they see is real or even possible.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new location tomorrow, Harry, and I must ask that you not go looking for it again. If you ever encounter it again, you will be prepared for its mystique, but it does not do to dwell on dreams. You must never forget to live." Dumbledore got to his feet, and Harry did the same. "One must also not forget to sleep. Why not put that admirable cloak on and head back downstairs?"

Harry nodded and turned to go. "Professor?" he asked. "None of what I saw was real? Their love, their pride, none of it?"

Dumbledore's face was unreadable. "Your parents loved you, Harry. Never doubt that. If they were still alive today, I know they would be proud of you. I don't believe any of those feelings you saw were imagined."

That made him feel slightly better. "Good night, sir."

"Good night, Harry." Harry could feel the old man's blue eyes watching him as he left the room.

Harry walked back to the dorm slowly. He knew that once he lay down to sleep, he would have to put the mirror out of his thoughts. So he walked slowly, trying to store up the images of his mother and father, holding them in his heart. He tried not to sniffle. Sniffling wasn't dignified.

Draco was sitting in a chair by the fire when Harry slid back the wall. He turned his head and peered over, trying to find his friend. Harry pulled the cloak off and sat down in the empty chair.

"You're back early," Draco said in a neutral tone.

"Dumbledore was waiting for me," Harry told him.

Draco's eyes grew wide. "Are you in trouble?"

Harry shook his head. "No, we had a talk. That is, he talked and I listened. He told me what the mirror is and what it does." He fell silent, his thoughts slipping back to his parents.

"Well?" Draco asked after Harry didn't elaborate.

He shook himself slightly. "It's called the Mirror of Erised. It shows you the thing you want more than anything else. Dumbledore said that you want to succeed in ways that Elan hasn't, so that's why you're Quidditch Captain holding the Cup."

"And what you want more than anything is your family," Draco said, understanding.

Harry nodded, his thoughts drifting again. "He said it gives us neither wisdom nor truth. People have died because they sat in front of it for days and weeks and just let themselves go. Other people have gone mad."

"Wow," Draco breathed. "Are you going to go mad too?"

"I hope not," Harry said. "Dumbledore told me that the mirror is being moved, and he told me not to go looking for it again. He said it wasn't good to get lost in dreams."

"Certainly not," Draco agreed.

Harry got to his feet. "I think I'm going to bed," he said.

Draco stood as well. "I'm going to sleep late come morning," he announced. "I've been waiting up all night for someone." He poked Harry on the shoulder.

Harry got into his pyjamas and lay down in bed. He could still see his parents; the tears on his mother's cheeks, the pride in his father's eyes. The images in the mirror had filled him with such longing, which was made all the worse for knowing that it could never be.

He lay awake for a long time, listening to the soft sounds of Draco's breathing, the only sound in the dorm. He stared up at his canopy, wishing desperately for sleep to come and banish the images. Finally, when he had all but given up hope, he closed his eyes and slept.

* * *

His dreams were terrible.

He had never dreamt of his parents before, for he did not remember them. Now he knew their faces, and those faces haunted his slumber. He dreamt of a house, a cozy home, filled with love and light. Then a storm would come, darkness would fall, and the door would burst open to admit a tall, cloaked figure. There would be a flash of green light, and his parents would vanish while a high-pitched, insane laugh echoed all around.

He came half-awake, shuddered, and sank back down into darkness. His dreams did not change, only repeated. Harry screamed in his head and came awake to find that he was still screaming. Draco was sitting on his bed, shaking him. Harry closed his mouth and hugged his knees into his chest.

"Bad dream?" Draco asked him. Concern was etched on his face. Harry nodded, and Draco put an arm around his friend. He didn't say anything else. They sat together until the sun rose, and Harry squeezed his friend's arm before he got up to go shower.

He was a bit more animated that day. He continued learning the basics of chess from Draco, who told him that Theo could teach him more, but if he wanted to excel, he should ask Elan for instruction. The pair played assorted card games to pass the time.

His nightmares returned that night. Everything was the same, including being shaken awake by Draco a few hours before dawn. When Harry told him about the dreams, all Draco had to say was, "Maybe Dumbledore was right. Maybe that mirror really can drive you mad."

With a week left before term started, the Slytherin dorms suddenly came back to life as some of the first year students returned to school. Tracy was pleased to see that Harry wasn't dressed like a slob anymore. Millie started a snowball fight with him and Draco that turned into a wrestling match, which Harry lost. Theo returned, intrigued about the mirror when he was told, and he reported no success in determining Flamel's identity.

Elan brought back a message from Mr. Malfoy that while he was very angry that Draco had skipped out on the holiday, especially without discussing his plans beforehand, he understood and respected Draco's decision to stay at school. In a somewhat dry manner, he inquired if Draco would be staying at school over Easter holiday as well.

When they first heard his nocturnal screams that night, his friends had varied reactions. Crabbe dove under his bed, convinced that the world was ending. Goyle grabbed his wand and jinxed everything that cast a shadow in the moonlight. Theo had to practically be pried off the ceiling of their room. Elan, Abraham, and Peter all came running with their wands in hand, ready to combat whatever foul beast they were certain was murdering the first years in their beds. Draco explained everything to them, and a Silencing Charm was placed on the room. It had been deemed essential to peace and order in the House, especially for the frightened second years the next room over.

When classes started again, it was a relief for Harry to be back into his routine. When he studied long into the night, he didn't dream, and he didn't wake screaming. That was a relief both for him and his roommates.

The month of January passed with little note, until one Friday evening when the first years were lounging in the common room. Nobody wanted to study, because there was too much excitement about tomorrow's Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Harry didn't care who won the game, but he planned to attend anyway. He wanted to go mostly because it was Quidditch, and partially because it would be good for him to study both teams and their Seekers.

The usual debate was going hot and heavy when Harry opened up a Chocolate Frog, one of the many he'd received from Crabbe and Goyle for Christmas. He snatched the frog out of mid-air as it tried to jump away and bit off one of the legs. He swallowed it, still squirming, and giggled as it tickled his insides. He looked at the card to see Dumbledore again. He sighed, for he already had the old wizard's card, and had been hoping for Ptolemy. He flipped over the card to read the back and froze. He read it again, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. No, it was correct.

"Draco!" he hissed. "Look!" Harry shoved the card in front of his friend's nose.

"What do I care about Dumbledore the Muggle..." Draco trailed off as he read the card. "Blow me."

"What is it?" Theo asked curiously.

"'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel'," Draco said with awe in his voice. "Cor blimey, Harry, you've done it!"

"Let me see!" Theo demanded, reaching for the card. "Damn, I knew I knew that name, and I knew he was on a card, too."

"Shut your cakehole," Pansy sneered at him. "You didn't know any such thing, or we'd have had the puzzle solved by now."

"Our major problem in all this has been going about it arse about face," Millie said. "Finding just a name is impossible, as we've found out. With a little more information, we should have no troubles."

Theo glowered at Pansy. "It's too late to go to the library now," he said, "but first thing tomorrow I'll check."

"We've checked in the library a thousand times," she said, still sounding very obnoxious.

"Yes, but now we know what area of magic to look through," he replied. "There's a whole section in the library devoted to alchemy, which you'd know if you ever spent any time actually studying when you go there."

Pansy began to turn red. "Belt up, you tosser."

"Look, just because you've got nothing to say-"

"You waffle so much, no one gets a word in edgewise!"

"Why not throw a wobbly if you're going to cry about it?" Theo suggested. "I'm sure that would really impress our housemates."

"We shouldn't have any trouble," Tracy chimed in, ignoring the pair trading insults. "Good thing for us Theo is _tres au fait_ with the library."

Draco blinked owlishly. "What?"

"Never you mind," she pouted, her lower lip sticking out.

"The search could take awhile," Millie pointed out. "We should all go, and after the Quidditch match."

"Yes, quite," Harry agreed. "You might want to just watch the match, but I've got to study it. Our match against Ravenclaw isn't all that far off."

"After lunch then," Draco decided. "We'll know what Flamel is all about by dinner."

Their plan made, the conversation drifted onto other topics. Everyone watched as Theo and Pansy traded barbs and jibes for about fifteen minutes without once repeating themselves or each other. While it was educational, Harry soon grew tired of their squabbling and went to take a shower before bedtime.

Later on when he was lying in bed, he thought he'd never get to sleep. The answer was close, he could feel it. Maybe once he knew why Flamel was so important, they'd know what was hidden in the school. Once they knew that, maybe he'd know why someone had tried to kill him. He was anxious, but he slept, and he didn't dream.


	14. No Need To Get Dramatic

The Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw was decidedly less interesting than Harry's own match against Gryffindor. He dutifully studied what the Ravenclaw Seeker did, but even he, with his minimal knowledge of Seeker tactics, was unimpressed.

Marcus Flint, Captain of the House team, had joined the first years to give running commentary on Andrew Calcari's rather lackluster performance for Ravenclaw. Harry, Flint assured him, was a better Seeker than Calcari with one hand tied behind his back. That gave Harry high hopes for their own match against Ravenclaw next month.

Flint's presence also had the added advantage of keeping Weasley from bothering them. The sixth year boy was very imposing when he wanted to be, and Harry thought that one scowl would be enough to send any small Gryffindors running for cover. While Harry knew that he and his friends could handle anything that Weasley chose to say or do, it was easier to not have to deal with him at all.

Ravenclaw won the match, which dragged long into the day, 220-100. Though the Seekers were competent, if uninspired, the Chasers and Keepers made the game exciting. There were dozens of brilliant plays on both sides, and that kept the score neck and neck for hours.

When the match finally finished, almost more by accident than deliberate effort by Calcari, the young Slytherins were diverted from going to the library by the necessity of having lunch. They ate as fast as polite manners would allow, even Crabbe, who normally liked to linger over his cup of milk. Then they all made a beeline for the alchemy section of the library.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that there was only the one bookcase. Theo quickly set them each to looking through a single shelf. With everyone looking, surely they would have some answers by tonight.

It was Daphne who called to the others in an excited voice, and they all gathered around a table in the back, eager to see what she'd found. Daphne dropped a thick, old book onto the table with a thud. Harry stared at it in amazement. The book was enormous, and it smelled kind of musty. At least it didn't kick up a cloud of dust. Someone must have taken it out recently.

Daphne flipped it open and turned to a page towards the center. "Here it is!" she whispered excitedly.

"'One obscure branch of the ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.

There have been many reports of Philosopher's Stones over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mister Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mister Flamel, who recently celebrated his six hundred sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred fifty-eight)."

When Daphne had finished reading, everyone was quiet. Theo's eyes flashed in triumph. "Well, there's our answer," he crowed. "Fluffy is guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone. He must have found out that someone was after it, so he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him."

"And no surprise why someone wants to steal it," Draco observed. "Immortality and unlimited wealth? I wouldn't mind that at all."

"Neither would a lot of people," Theo said.

"I wouldn't," Pansy said. "I'd never have to worry about spending too much money on clothes ever again."

"I know," Tracy said with a sigh. "Can you imagine? I would buy hundreds of shoes."

"We should try to find it before Quirrell does," Pansy suggested.

"I still think Professor Snape is after it," Theo said.

"It wasn't Snape, you moron," Pansy lashed out at him. "I saw Quirrell casting, and he wasn't blinking."

"But why would Quirrell try to kill Harry?" Tracy asked. "That would be inconceivable."

"Why would Snape try to kill Harry?" Millie demanded. "It makes no sense at all."

"Yeah," agreed Draco. "I just can't believe that Professor Snape, the Head of our House, would be trying to kill one of the students placed under his protection. Besides, consider this: Quirrell was wandering around the corridors the night Harry found that Mirror. I bet he was looking for the Stone."

"Quirrell teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts," Theo said. "He has every reason to patrol the corridors. Didn't Harry overhear Filch saying that Snape had asked him to let him know if anyone was roaming the halls at night? What business is it of Snape's?"

That made the faction which condemned Quirrell quiet down.

Daphne cleared her throat. "There's valid arguments on both sides," she said, "and my considered opinion is that we just don't know for sure."

"It might not matter," Harry said softly, "but I felt like Snape hated me when he first saw me."

Everyone drew in close around him. "At the Feast, he looked right at me, and I got this hot pain in my scar. I don't know why it would have done that. It's never hurt me before then."

Those who suspected Quirrell looked at each other doubtfully.

"Daphne's right," Theo said. "There are good points both for and against. The only thing we can do right now is watch them both very carefully to see if we can find more clues."

"Maybe we should try to find out some more about them both," Tracy mused, biting her lower lip. "That might help us figure it all out."

"Maybe," said Draco, "but I tell you right now, it's not going to be Professor Snape."

They put the book back on the shelf and left the library to return to their common room. Right outside the library they met Longbottom, who stumbled in nervousness or fear when he saw the Slytherins.

"Well, well, well," said Draco, letting his voice fall into his bored drawl. "Longbottom, how perfectly dreadful to see you."

"M-M-Malfoy," Longbottom stuttered.

"Listen to you, you sound like Professor Quirrell," Theo said, laughing.

"I'd l-like to get by," Longbottom said quietly, staring wistfully into the safety zone of the library.

"And I'd like to be on the Quidditch team in my first year," Millie snarled. "We don't always get what we want, now, do we?"

"P-Please let me by," Longbottom said. Harry could see his knees quivering.

Draco drew his wand. " _Locomotor Mortis!_ " he cast, pointing his wand at the chubby boy.

Longbottom's legs snapped together. His arms waving wildly, his bag fell to the floor, and he crashed down on top of his books with a surprised cry. The Slytherins all laughed.

"Thanks, Longbottom. I've been looking for someone to try that out on. You can go study now. Why not look up the counter-jinx?" Draco laughed again, and sauntered off down the corridor. The others followed.

Harry hung back as his friends walked away. What Draco had done wasn't right. Longbottom wasn't a Muggleborn, and nothing in the Slytherin Rules said that it was okay to randomly assault fellow students. He drew his own wand and pointed it; the Gryffindor cringed away, looking like he was about to cry. Harry quickly spoke the counter-jinx and ran, missing the astounded expression on the other boy's face.

* * *

Back in the common room, Harry grabbed ahold of Draco's robes before the blond boy could sit and pulled his friend towards their dorm room. When Draco opened his mouth to protest the rough treatment, Harry slapped his hand over it, forestalling the words. People took one look at Harry's furious face and backed away.

Harry yanked the door to their room open and shoved Draco through. He stalked in after his friend, slamming the door. "What the hell's your bloody problem?" Draco demanded angrily.

"Why did you hex Longbottom?" Harry asked in an outraged tone of voice. He folded his arms across his chest. "He's not got anything to do with Muggles."

"You can't be serious," Draco scoffed. "Longbottom? You're sticking up for Longbottom?"

"He's never said so much as a word to you since the train," Harry said, feeling his face start to heat up.

Draco rolled his eyes. "He's clumsy enough with magic that he might as well be from a Muggle family. The great lump is practically a Squib."

"Longbottom isn't a Squib," Harry said disgustedly. "How could a Squib get an invitation to this school?"

"Longbottom is a complete dunderhead," Draco said, waving his hand as if the question didn't concern him. "You know that. He needs some encouragement if he's ever going to get better."

"Who appointed you? Headmaster Dumbledore?" Harry demanded. "Neville's just a regular chap trying to get by. If he wants to leave us alone, I think we should leave him alone as well."

"Who?"

"Longbottom!"

"Oh." Draco sat down on his bed and looked up at Harry. "You're being a real drag about this. Come on, then."

"Why are you so ready to just lay into him? He's never tried to cause a problem with us. You can hex Weasley all you like. That's fine; I'll gladly help, but there's a difference between hexing someone for payback and hexing someone out of a cruel sense of fun. Longbottom doesn't deserve this; he's done nothing to us."

"He's a bloody Gryffindor," Draco said flatly. "That should be all the reason I need."

"Just him being a Gryffindor is enough for you to hate him?" Harry speculated incredulously. "That's ignorant. That's acting just like Weasley, saying that because of their House, they're worthy of our contempt."

"Don't say I'm like Weasley," Draco said angrily. "That's more insulting than you can know."

"Well stop acting like him then," Harry shouted back. "God, it's bad enough having a prejudiced prat like him as my enemy; do I have to have one as my best friend, too?"

Draco cast a hurt glare towards Harry. "I'm not a prat," he said defensively.

Harry ignored Draco's protestation; he was in a frenzy. "What if I'd been sorted to a different House? Would you have treated me just like you're treating Longbottom? You know my blood is pure, but would that matter if I were in Gryffindor?"

"Harry, don't be absurd-" he started to say.

"Remember House Rule Five: 'Blood does matter'," Harry said, poking a finger into Draco's chest. "I think that means that until Longbottom crosses us, he should get the same respect we give to Terry Boot."

Draco frowned. "We grew up with Terry; we know his worth."

Harry scowled ferociously at his best mate.

"Fine. If it'll make you happy, I'll leave the chubby wanker alone. He isn't worth my time anyway, but don't think for a moment you're going to stop me from hexing Granger."

"Why not?" Harry continued, not letting up for a second. "We got our revenge! She's in Hufflepuff with the rest of the duffers, right?"

"Harry, why are you being like this?" Draco sounded puzzled. "Back during our first Flying lesson you were all about playing around with Longbottom's stupid glass ball."

"That was different," Harry snapped. "That wasn't to antagonize Longbottom; he wasn't even there. I was doing it to irritate Weasley. If Longbottom's Rememberall had gotten broken, I would have bought him another. I've got no problem with him, and there's no sense in going out of our way to get people hacked off at us," Harry continued in a more reasoned tone. "If people try to cause problems with us, then we should deal with those problems with our best spells, but why go looking for trouble?"

Any answer Draco might have given was cut off as Theo knocked on the door and opened it immediately. "What in Merlin's name is going on?" he asked. "Harry, why'd you drag Draco off like that? Don't you know he hates to have his clothes mussed?"

That made Harry crack a smile, even in his foul mood. "We had something to discuss. I think you ought to hear it too, actually."

"Harry feels that we should leave Longbottom alone, Theo," Draco told his friend. "In fact, he wants us to leave all purebloods in the other Houses alone, since he's interpreting House Rule Five as meaning that they should all get the same respect we give Terry."

Theo frowned. "We grew up with Terry."

"That's what I told him." Draco sighed, "but I think maybe he's got a point. The Rule does seem pretty clear."

"So no more random hexings of purebloods?" Theo asked, his voice incredulous. "Not even Weasley?"

"Stuff Weasley," Harry said cheerfully. "He's gone out of his way to cross us, so he gets what he deserves and deserves what he gets. Others, like Longbottom, we leave alone. He's such a chicken I can't help but wonder why he's in Gryffindor in the first place."

Theo rubbed his jaw thoughtfully with one index finger. "You could be right. Okay then, from now on, we only hex those who earn it. I guess we'd better tell everyone else."

"Pansy's not going to like this," Draco warned.

"Who cares what she likes?" Theo replied nonchalantly.

* * *

Now that they weren't methodically hexing any Gryffindor they caught by him- or herself, the Slytherins' lives settled into a fairly predictable routine. Choir practice went on, and they were even starting to sound pretty good. Their private practices at casting hexes and curses had them far ahead of Quirrell's lesson plans. Night-time Astronomy lessons resumed, to Professor Sinistra's great delight. Whenever one of them chanced to pass the forbidden corridor on the third floor, Fluffy's growls and snarls could still be heard if one pressed an ear up against the door. The Stone was, to all appearances, still safe.

Professor Snape continued to act like Professor Snape. He occassionally made appearances in the common room to offer tutelage, he abused the Gryffindors in Potions class, and he maintained a very proper attitude through it all.

Professor Quirrell continued to be Professor Quirrell. He stuttered his way through his lectures, he jumped at unexpected sounds, and he never told them about "the good stuff". His behavior gave the first year Slytherins no clues, but neither did Professor Snape's.

They were all frustrated at their lack of progress, none more than Harry. He wanted to know who had tried to kill him and why. He wanted answers; he felt more than entitled. He hadn't felt his scar hurting in quite awhile, so his possible clue hadn't amounted to much.

Almost before Harry realized it, it was the middle of February, and St. Valentine's Day was upon them. Red, white, and pink decorations were all over the castle, and everyone was exchanging cards. Some cards would sing, others would rhyme, and lots of things were exploding with confetti.

After Draco had warned him that girls expected certain things for this rather silly holiday, Harry had gotten creative and Charmed up his own valentines for the first year girls, each with a little poem on it (stolen from a book, to be sure, but appropriately cited and sourced). He also gave one to Jessica, who blushed prettily and kissed his cheek, one to Molly Archer, and one to Jamie Davis.

To his intense surprise, he received a pile of valentines, and not just from girls in his year. Jessica gave him a card, as did Molly and Jamie. Samantha Warrington, Erika Chabré, Veronica Sawyer, and Joy duMonde, all second years, each gave him cards. Mandy Brocklehurst, his friends' friend in Ravenclaw, also sent him a card, and he barely knew her.

Theo, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all got numerous valentines as well. Draco acted nonchalant about it all, but Theo was pleased, and Crabbe and Goyle were just as astounded as Harry.

The girls got more emotional about their valentines, but that was only natural. Tracy kept hugging Harry all day, much more than she hugged Draco, Theo, Crabbe, or Goyle. She also spent several long occasions gazing wistfully at Elan, whose eloquence had quite overwhelmed her.

Theo had given Pansy a bunch of dead flowers and a valentine made from black parchment with a poem written in silver ink citing ten ways he'd like to see her die. It was as close as Theo ever got to expressing affection for her. He had borrowed Harry's bottle of silver ink for the inscription, and Harry had laughed as Theo read each stanza aloud.

In contrast to the festive mood inside the castle, the weather that whole week was rainy, cold, and miserable. Harry was not looking forward to playing the weekend's Quidditch match in these conditions. At least the clouds were not weeping when the teams took to the skies.

It was Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, and Slytherin had a commanding point lead over the other Houses, so Harry could catch the Snitch as quickly as he pleased. He hoped that he would be able to catch it soon and get back to the dungeons where he could be warm. The Self-Warming Charm didn't work very well when playing Quidditch.

The first years were all concerned that the teacher who had jinxed Harry's broom in his last match would try again. Theo and Tracy looked worried when they saw Professor Snape sitting in the faculty section. They had both brought binoculars to watch for any foul play. Millie, Draco, and Pansy looked quite pleased to see their Head of House, and likewise had binoculars, to watch Professor Quirrell. Daphne said that after having failed once, the guilty party wouldn't try the same stunt again, especially with Professor Dumbledore sitting right there in the staff section. Goyle and Crabbe left the thinking to the clever ones. If Goyle was needed for action, he would be ready.

Perhaps it was just bad luck that had them sitting near Weasley and his Gryffin-friends. Draco preferred to think of it as an opportunity. He poked Weasley in the back of the head.

"Ow! What's the big- Malfoy, I might have known. What do you want?" Weasley's voice was cold, and he resisted rubbing the back of his head where Draco had poked him.

"Sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there. I thought it was an ugly house elf." Draco snickered.

"How long's Potter going to stay on his broom this time?" Weasley asked in a nasty tone of voice.

"Why, Weasley, did you want to make a bet? Does your Mommy allow you to gamble?" Draco's drawling sneer was in full force.

Weasley's face got red. "Don't you have a go at my Mum," he threatened, shaking a finger in Draco's face.

"L-L-Leave him a-alone, Malf-foy," Longbottom stuttered, turning around to face the Slytherins. From the look on his face, he'd rather be anywhere else, even up in the sky on a broom playing target for the Beaters like Ravenclaw's Keeper was currently doing.

"Back off, Longbottom," Theo barked, making Longbottom jump thirty centimeters easily. "Keep your nonexistent brain focused on your own business."

"He gives good advice, Longbottom," Draco drawled, "and he speaks truly about your brains."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Weasley interjected.

Longbottom turned bright red. "I'm w-worth t-t-twelve of y-you, Malfoy," he blustered.

"Just like I told you, Neville. Good man," Weasley said in an encouraging tone of voice.

That statement set the Slytherins bursting with laughter. The Gryffindor continued flushing red. Draco regained his breath first. "Longbottom, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's just pathetic."

"I told you to shut up, Malfoy!" Weasley said, rising to his feet. He looked like he was ready to start hitting people.

Draco looked through his binoculars and hummed a little tune to himself. Without realizing it, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were soon humming along with him. Crabbe and Goyle came in humming the harmony, and Theo began to sing a bit.

"'As noble Sir Arthur one morning did ride,  
With his hounds at his feet, and his sword by his side,  
He saw a fair maid sitting under a tree,  
He asked her name, and she said 'twas Mollee.'"

"Stop that!" Weasley ordered his Housemates. "No singing with Slytherins!" He was red in the face. "Wait! What song is that?"

"Sir Arthur and Charming Mollee," Thomas answered. "It's one of the songs we're singing in choir."

"Arthur and Molly?" Weasley half-shouted, completely enraged. "Arthur and Molly! Those are the names of my Mum and Dad! You slimy bastards, you set this all up to have a go at them."

"Weasley, calm down," Theo pleaded. He waited until Weasley took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The truth is, I knew both of your parents' names and requested that we sing this song solely because I knew it would hack you off." Theo's voice was so absolutely serious that they all cracked up laughing.

Weasley got red in the face and dove at Theo without another word. They fell to the floor, kicking and punching at each other. The Gryffindors all watched with semi-interest. The Slytherins' eyes remained glued to the skies. Up in the air, Harry swooped past Madam Hooch to grab the Snitch, and the match was over, 210 to 40.

The cheering was deafening from the throats of the youths in green and silver trim. The Slytherin team landed gracefully on the pitch where Bole and Derrick lifted Harry up onto their shoulders. His friends all hurried towards the stairs to go congratulate him. Crabbe and Goyle separated Weasley from Theo, who had Weasley in a headlock, but was getting punched in the gut repeatedly.

"That's enough," Crabbe said gruffly as he grabbed Weasley by his shirt collar and dragged him off.

"Theo, you okay?" Goyle asked, offering a hand up.

"Thanks," Theo replied. "Where were you two?"

"We figured you could handle him for a few seconds," Goyle teased him. "If it had gone on a bit longer we would have grabbed his neck for you or something."

* * *

There was a small party in the Slytherin common room that evening. Several of the older students nipped down to the kitchen and had the house elves send up a whole smorgasbord along with pumpkin juice, milk, and tea. Harry spied some other of the older students drinking out of metal flasks, but didn't inquire of it.

Harry was man of the hour. Everyone wanted to shake his hand. Many of the girls gave him belated valentines. All in all, it was rather embarrassing to be made so much of along with Flint and the rest of the team. None of the team members were allowed to do anything for themselves. Everything was fetched to them, poured for them, and the choicest morsels were theirs for the consuming. At the head of the table, reserved for the Captain, Flint wasn't even feeding himself; Elizabeth Archer, one of the choir's star sopranos, was sitting on his lap and holding his fork for him.

The party was a loud, boisterous affair, made more so in that it was Saturday, and there were no classes the next day. The celebrating went long into the night. Harry was toasted again and again.

It went on the next afternoon, as well, with everyone standing when Harry or another team member arrived at the table. People raised their goblets in salute. Harry thought his cheeks might well fall off from blushing so hard.

Harry was very happy though. He'd done something that he could be proud of. Nobody could say he was lucky anymore, or just a famous name. Harry had caught that Snitch with some very skillful flying, and he'd done it all by himself.

Things had calmed down by the time classes started on Monday, and soon everyone was back to the same old routine. Choir practice went on with only a short time before Easter and their first performance. The first years continued their private practices at casting hexes and curses. They spent long hours every night reading their books, pouring over their notes, and practicing their Charms and Transfiguration.

The month of March slipped by. Gryffindor lost their Quidditch match to Hufflepuff, leaving them in dead last for both the Quidditch Cup and House Cup. Gryffindors continued to provide the Slytherins with entertainment during Potions lecture.

The weather began to occasionally get warmer, and the snow slowly dwindled. Now and then, the sun would come out to visit. Finally, one did not have to don one's heaviest sweater just to survive through the school day. Then, on the first day of April, Tracy came rushing into the boys' dorm room after classes. They all looked up in surprise as she collapsed against the door frame and put on a tragic face. "The world is going to end!" she cried.


	15. It's Good To Be In Slytherin

On the first day of April, Tracy came rushing into the boys' dorm room after classes. They all looked up in surprise as she collapsed against the doorframe and put on a tragic face. "The world is going to end!" she cried.

"What?" all the boys echoed.

Tracy raised one hand and pressed the back against her forehead. She tilted her head. "Armageddon is upon us! We sit our exams in only eight weeks, and I haven't yet begun to revise!"

Draco laughed loudly. "You're such a drama queen, Tracy."

"But it's tragic!" she insisted. "We're all going to have to draw up study schedules. We need to pass these exams to come back next year."

"Relax," Theo told her in a bored voice. "We made up schedules two days ago. I keep track of things like this."

She made a rude gesture in his direction. "Tragic," she said again.

Tracy was quite right to say that it was an urgent thing that exams were only eight weeks away. Harry was inclined to agree with her, as the teachers seemed to think the students needed to study hard as well and relentlessly piled on the work. He studied fervently, trying to complete all his homework the night it was assigned and seldom succeeding.

With such work piled high on their desks, the Easter holidays weren't nearly as enjoyable as Christmas time. The only real break in their schoolwork came on the last Sunday of the holiday when the school choir had their first performance.

Harry tugged nervously at the collar of his shirt. For this performance the students wore only the uniform shirts and trousers that they customarily wore under their robes. There were no House crests visible, and even the neckties in the House colours were absent. They were merely the Hogwarts School Choir.

The tables were pushed up against the rear wall of the Great Hall, and all the benches were lined up facing the steps that led up to the High Table where the staff sat for meals. The Choir waited in two lines up against each side wall. The Sorting Hat waited at the front on its stool.

The bell tolled the hour, and a silence settled over the audience. The lights dimmed. Those at the back of the line touched their wands to the candles they held and ignited a flame. That flame was passed from candle to candle, wick to wick, up the line. When all the candles were lit, the choir took the stage. Without preamble, they launched into their first song, accompanied by a spooky piano that no one could see.

 

"'As noble Sir Arthur one morning did ride,  
With his hounds at his feet, and his sword by his side,  
He saw a fair maid sitting under a tree,  
He asked her name, and she said 'twas Mollee.'"  
Oh, charming Mollee, you my butler shall be,  
To draw the red wine for yourself and for me!  
I'll make you a lady so high in degree,  
If you will but love me, my charming Mollee!

 

The opening was strong and loud, the boys' deeper voices carrying powerfully through the air. They sounded better than they had ever sounded in practice. It was the presence of the audience, Harry knew, and the pressure was on them to be great.

 

I'll give you fine ribbons, I'll give you fine rings,  
I'll give you fine jewels, and many fine things;  
I'll give you a petticoat flounced to the knee,  
If you will but love me, my charming Mollee!  
I'll have none of your ribbons, and none of your rings,  
None of your jewels, and other fine things;  
And I've got a petticoat suits my degree,  
And I'll ne'er love a married man till his wife dee.

 

Harry felt good about what he was doing. The choir was not merely some collection of those who it just so happened could sing. The various components; the different voice parts, the different age groups, the different Houses, had all come together. They were into the song with feeling now, singing with heart and enthusiasm.

 

Oh, charming Mollee, lend me then your penknife,  
And I will go home, and I'll kill my own wife;  
I'll kill my own wife, and my bairnies three,  
If you will but love me, my charming Mollee!  
Oh, noble Sir Arthur, it must not be so,  
Go home to your wife, and let nobody know;  
For seven long years I will wait upon thee,  
But I'll ne'er love a married man till his wife dee.

 

The male voices alternated with the female voices. Back and forth, they weaved together the tale of a love that was true, but could not be fulfilled. It was a good story, and by singing it, they gave it a haunting quality all its own.

 

Now seven long years are gone and are past,  
The old woman went to her long home at last;  
The old woman died, and Sir Arthur was free,  
And he soon came a-courting to charming Mollee.  
Now charming Mollee in her carriage doth ride,  
With her hounds at her feet, and her lord by her side:  
Now all ye fair maids take a warning by me,  
And ne'er love a married man till his wife dee.

 

As the first song drew to a close, Harry could see Weasley at the back of the Hall with a dark scowl on his face. He hadn't enjoyed the music, to judge from his expression. He was probably still hacked off that the choir had sung a song with his parents' names in it. He turned away from the performance and stalked out of the Hall. The air rang with their last note. Then the audience burst into thunderous applause. The Sorting Hat turned and bowed to them all.

"Thank you, thank you," it said in a satisfied tone of voice. "That was Sir Arthur and Charming Mollee, a traditional aria from Northumbria. The Sir Arthur referred to is no less a personage than Sir Arthur Haslerigg, the Governor of Tynemouth Castle during the Protectorate of Cromwell." The audience was silent, not having expected a history lesson. "This next song is called Blow Away The Morning Dew."

 

There was a knight both young and fair,  
Came riding o'er the hill  
As he rode out one May morning  
To see what he could kill.  
Blow away the morning dew  
Dew and the dew  
Blow away the morning dew.  
He look-ed high, he look-ed low,  
He cast another look  
And then he spied a pretty maid  
A-bathing in the brook.  
Blow away the morning dew  
Dew and the dew  
Blow away the morning dew.

 

As they launched into the second tune, a lot of Harry's nervousness had drained away. Their audience was enjoying the show, and that made it easier to perform well. The last five verses of the song came effortlessly, even the repetition of the chorus where the soprano soloists' voices went soaring above the rest in a lilting coloratura.

This song also was very well-received, and the applause bounced off the walls. Harry found himself grinning. The choir was turning out to be a smash hit. The Hat turned to bow, but did not speak. It turned back, and they launched into the next song.

 

This is my Father's world,  
And to my list'ning ears,  
All nature sings,  
And round me rings  
The music of the spheres.  
This is my Father's world,  
I rest me in the thought  
Of rocks and trees,  
Of skies and seas;  
His hand the wonders wrought.

 

Harry had never been particularly religious. The Dursleys had paid lip service to the Church, attending services on Christmas, Easter, and certain other holidays. Harry had been locked in his cupboard during those times, so he did not have any clear theology. The song held little meaning for him.

The applause for the semi-religious tune was fairly enthusiastic. The Hat bowed deeply. "This Is My Father's World, one of my favourite songs. It's an old traditional aria with roots in the Church, composed by Maltbie D. Babcocks. Our last selection for you is one that everyone may know, but I must ask you not to join in. The song is called Jerusalem, but you may know it as England's Mountains Green."

 

And did those feet in ancient time  
Walk upon England's mountains green?  
And was the Holy Lamb of God  
On England's pleasant pastures seen?  
And did the countenance divine  
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?  
And was Jerusalem builded here  
Among these dark satanic mills.  
Bring me my bow of burning gold!  
Bring me my arrows of desire!  
Bring me my spear! O Clouds unfold!  
Bring me my chariot of fire!  
I will not cease from mental fight  
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand  
Till we have built Jerusalem  
In England's green and pleasant land.

 

This last song was amazingly popular, and the applause went on and on. The Hat turned, and they all bowed. People in the audience began to stand up, still applauding.

Millie was grinning broadly. As people began to mix and mingle, Harry went up to her and gave her a hug. "We did it!" he cheered.

"Our choir is a success," she said. Her cheeks were rosy and bright. "What a show it was."

"We sounded good," Daphne said, joining in the conversation.

"Damn right we did," Pansy agreed. "It was fun too!"

"Too right," Draco chimed in. "Did you see Weasley storm out during our first song?"

"He looked fit to be tied, that git," Theo laughed.

"Were you aware of his parents' names when you suggested the song in our first meeting?" Tracy inquired. "You appear to be deriving too much pleasure from this to have been ignorant."

"I knew," Theo said proudly. "It was a simple matter, really. I just owled home and asked Father. I knew I'd be able to put the information to good use at some point."

* * *

Slytherin flattened Hufflepuff in the Quidditch match some weeks later. The score was completely ridiculous: 300-30. Harry flew circles around the Hufflepuff Seeker, and catching the Snitch seemed like the easiest thing in the world. As he flew his victory circuit of the pitch, he thumbed his nose at Weasley, for that third victory had clinched the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin.

The party in Slytherin House that night was wild. Once again, there was a table set up for the team members. Once again, nothing was too good for them. Once again, they had every want and desire catered to. Once again, the best bits of food were served up to them on silver platters.

Captain Flint had Bridget Sawyer, a fifth year, and Heather Duke, a sixth year, giving him all kinds of personal attention. They held his fork and knife, feeding him as though he were a king.

Harry enjoyed the festivities. Though he wouldn't let anyone feed him, Tracy kept his goblet filled, and Daphne kept his plate piled with food. People all around him drank, ate, and laughed a lot; good friends had a very good time.

The weather was bright and sunny the next morning, so Daphne suggested going for a picnic. They could get out of the castle and get some fresh air. Apparently it had been a plot on her part, because several baskets were delivered right at lunchtime. They each contained enough food to feed a small army, or maybe just Crabbe and Goyle.

The first years tromped outside the huge castle doors and stopped to just soak it all in. They walked to the grass right in the spot before the hill began to slope. Draco stomped his foot a couple of times and pronounced it adequate.

Theo drew his wand and cast an incantation Harry had never heard before. " _Arefacio!_ " There was no change to the ground that Harry could see. He threw Theo a questioning look.

"Drying Charm," his bookish friend said. "Very practical, very useful. Works on just about anything, and it's not dangerous."

They spread out their blankets. Daphne opened the basket and started pulling out plates and containers, and within a few minutes, there was nearly as much food as on the table in the Great Hall.

"Shall I be Mother?" Tracy asked, picking up the teapot. No one objected, so she began pouring.

"This was a good idea," Harry said, laying on his back to stare up into the sky.

"Too right," agreed Theo. "We've been cooped up inside so long, I'd forgotten what the outdoors smells like."

"Why not look it up in the library?" Pansy asked him, not bothering to sneer. She seemed half-hearted, as though her cutting remark were through force of habit. Theo growled at her, but didn't rise to her bait. The day was too nice for arguing, even for that pair.

They talked of small things, avoiding all talk of classes. Harry was just listening to Millie tell about the time she'd managed to catch a muddy pig during a rainstorm when Draco stood up and called out to someone. "Oi, Terry!"

Terry Boot, their friend in Ravenclaw, had also stepped outside for a breath of air. He had very large brown eyes, a round face, and close-cropped light brown hair. Harry had only spoken to him a handful of times, but had found him to be a pleasant sort of fellow.

He was accompanied by Mandy Brocklehurst and Padma Patil. Mandy was a short, but pretty girl with big black pigtails. Padma had extremely tan skin. She wasn't dark, per se, but Harry had grown up in an isolated area and was fascinated. He liked her dark hair, which she wore back in a long braid.

"Looks like quite the little party," Terry said, sitting down next to Tracy. "Where'd you lot steal all this from then?"

"My Mum sent it up," Daphne told him. Mandy joined her on the blanket while Padma sat next to Harry.

"Brilliant idea, I must say," Mandy complimented Daphne. "That castle gets so damp and dreary sometimes."

"Everyone knows Padma, right?" Terry asked. Everyone except Harry nodded.

"We haven't formally met," he spoke up. He stuck out his hand. "Harry Potter."

Padma's eyes grew wide momentarily, but she controlled herself well. "Padma Patil," she replied in a clear voice. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Harry grinned at her.

"Where were you three off to?" Draco inquired.

"Just out and about," Mandy answered. "I was tired of looking at my notes, so I decided to go stretch my legs and asked if anyone wanted to go with me. These two are just tagging along."

"A Ravenclaw got tired of studying?" Daphne observed slyly. "That's like a Slytherin growing weary of purity."

Padma made a face at her. "Oh, we're still thinking about academics," she retorted, "but we're just not chewing quills at the same time."

Everyone laughed easily at that. The Slytherins shared some of their food, and about three different conversations started up. They talked about the professors and about their fellow students. Harry was pleased to learn from Padma that Weasley acted like a prat in his other classes as well. The Ravenclaws shared History of Magic with Gryffindor, and she told him that Weasley was always running his mouth before, after, and even sometimes during class.

The rest of the picnic was enjoyable. Daphne had had a wonderful idea. Harry was glad for the opportunity to spend some time with his other classmates. They only shared the one class, and Herbology was always very busy.

When the air grew colder, they packed up their basket and hastened indoors. The break in the day had been wonderful, but as Mandy pointed out, there was studying to be done. When most of his work was completed, Harry put it aside.

Theo was scribbling furiously on an essay for History of Magic, so he asked Elan to instruct him in some of the finer points of wizard chess. Elan quickly showed his superiority to Draco, and even Theo, as he trounced Harry in a handful of moves through half a dozen contests.

Then Elan began teaching Harry tactics, and he paid careful attention. The game of strategy held a fascinating appeal. His pieces, while still not completely sure of his abilities as a general, had at least stopped shouting insults at him by the time Harry and Elan were done.

Almost before he knew it, Draco and Theo were ushering him off to bed. "You can play chess tomorrow," Theo said firmly. "I'll play you myself."

"You need sleep, Harry," Draco agreed. "Classes are bright and early tomorrow."

The boys said goodnight to the girls, and retired to their dormitory. Goyle yawned hugely, causing Crabbe, Theo, Draco, and then Harry himself to yawn in progression. He kicked off his shoes, changed into his pyjamas, and went to bed.

* * *

The pace of the next week was exhausting, as it was clear that the teachers were gearing up for end of the year examinations. Harry and his friends stumbled out of the dungeons on Friday, completely worn out by the work Professor Snape had set them to. They emerged from the dungeons alone; all of the Gryffindors had been ordered to remain behind.

They had planned to use the free afternoon for studying, but Harry had other ideas. After Christmas, he and Millie had never resumed their Friday afternoon tea with Hagrid. Now knowing what they did about the Stone, they thought they had little need to visit the man. Further attempts to gather clues from studying the two suspect professors had yielded no results. Maybe it was time to go back to the well.

Harry knocked on the door of Hagrid's hut. "Coming!" he called out over Fang's barking. After a couple of minutes, the big man opened the door. "Oh, 'allo there. I 'aven't seen you lot 'round 'ere in awhile. What've yeh been up to? Stayin' outta trouble, I hope."

"Of course!" Harry said instantly.

"Well, don't jest stand out there. Come in."

They sat down at Hagrid's table, and the big man poured tea. He passed around a plate of cookies that Harry had mistaken for rocks. Fang, of course, went right to Millie for some petting.

"'Aven't seen yeh since Christmas," Hagrid said. "How were the holidays, 'Arry?"

"Very pleasant," Harry replied. "All my friends sent me Christmas gifts, and I'd never gotten anything before."

"Those bastard Dursleys," Hagrid growled. "I've a mind teh go back and give that fat little cousin of yours a matching set of ears fer 'is tail."

"You're not supposed to do things like that," Harry admonished him. "You could get into trouble."

The big man sipped from a pocket flask and said nothing. An uncomfortable silence settled over the table. Finally Millie spoke. "Hagrid, we know about the Stone," she said plainly.

Hagrid's face grew dark and mean for a second. Then he sighed and rested his elbows on the table, putting his face in his hands.

"So how'd yeh find out?" Hagrid asked them. His deep voice was muffled slightly because of his hands.

"I knew I remembered Flamel's name from somewhere, but I just couldn't think of where," Harry told him. "Then I opened up a Chocolate Frog and got Dumbledore on the card." He held it out to show the big man. "'...and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel.'"

Hagrid peered at the card. "A'right, so yeh found out who he is. 'At don't mean nothin'."

"We found a book in the library under the alchemy section," Millie informed him. "It was easy to find once we knew what we were looking for. The book told us all about Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone."

Hagrid's face grew dark. "I hope yeh dinae go tellin' tales all aroun' the school. Students aren't supposed teh know about the Stone. It's here 'cause someone tried teh steal it outta Gringotts, as yeh've probably figured out."

"We didn't tell anyone," Harry assured him.

"But we have our suspicions about who's trying to steal it," Millie told him. "It's either Professor Snape or Professor Quirrell."

"'At's a bin full o' rubbish," Hagrid scoffed. "Those two 'elped teh guard the Stone. They're not apt teh go stealin' it, now are they?"

"There are other defences aside from Fluffy?" Harry asked. "Can you tell us what they are?"

Hagrid frowned at him. "O' course I can't," he said, surprised that they had even asked. "First off, I don't know meself. Secondly, yeh already know far too much, so I wouldn't tell yeh anyway. That Stone be here fer a good reason. It's dangerous in the wrong hands, and those wrong hands are trying teh steal it."

"Can you at least tell us who else Dumbledore trusted enough to help guard the Stone?" Millie asked, and Harry was inwardly cheering at her genius. Hagrid revered Dumbledore, and reminding him of the Headmaster's trust in him was a wonderful way to flatter the big man.

Hagrid's chest swelled up a bit, and Harry knew Millie's quick thinking had won the day. "Well, there's Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, Professor McGonagall, very nice lady, Professor Dumbledore himself done something, then Professor Quirrell and Professor Snape."

"That's so nutty that one of those two would help to guard that Stone." Harry shook his head. He didn't know which was the guilty party, but whomever he was, he had Dumbledore fooled completely. There was a clear and present danger to Hogwarts.

"T'only sounds nutty because there ain't no plot ter be stealin' the Stone," Hagrid admonished them. "Now I want yeh to ferget about this business. Yeh oughta be worried about yer studies."

"We're keeping up, Hagrid," Harry said a bit defensively. "I'm earning top marks in Potions, I'll have you know."

"Well, Professor Snape is known teh favour 'is own," Hagrid muttered darkly, sipping at his flask again.

Millie stood up, shoving Fang's head out of her lap. "We need to go, Harry," she said with a distinct chill in her voice. "Good day, Hagrid."

Harry also rose and placed his cup on the table. Wordlessly, he followed Millie out of the hut. As they set off back to the castle, he could plainly see that she was fuming.

"How dare he," she seethed. "Of all the rude things to say, saying such disrespectful things about our Head of House."

Back in the common room, the other first years grew very angry when told what Hagrid had said. Draco was perhaps the most eloquent.

"Didn't I tell you it would be like this, Harry?" he stormed. "Everyone's jealous of us. They think we can't get ahead fairly. They think we cheat." Draco scowled fiercely. "We're the best, and they just can't accept it, so they tell lies about us. That giant oaf," he said scornfully. "We ought to give him a good hexing, is what we ought to do."

"That could be fun," Theo said thoughtfully. "We've got the perfect defence too. We could hardly be expected to tolerate someone insulting Professor Snape. Next week you can go down as usual, get inside, and hex him a bit. Then just say that Hagrid was being insulting, and you got angry."

"You say that like you're not planning to go," Tracy laughed at him. "Surely you'll be able to spin that tale properly when we're questioned about it."

Theo frowned. "I'm not going to be there. Only Harry and Millie have a legitimate, pre-established reason for being there. Lots of people have seen them leaving the castle at tea time. Everyone knows where they're going. If the rest of us tag along, it'll look planned, and that would make us look like liars if we try to tell that story."

"Just us?" Millie asked. "Goodie, we get him all to ourselves."

"That's bloody unfair," Pansy pouted. "Smelly beast, I'd hit him with a Bubble Bath Charm."

"Surely one more person could go along," Draco reasoned. "I'll make sure to give him a hex for each of you."

"Who says you get to go?" Daphne demanded. "Selfish prat, always thinking of yourself first. All of us have the right to go, and it's not going to automatically be you just because your name is Malfoy."

"We'll draw stones for it," Tracy decided, and she magicked up a green velvet pouch and a set of stones, seven black, one red. "Whoever draws the red stone gets to go with Harry and Millie to hex Hagrid."

That seemed the fairest method, and they all gave assent. As a neutral party, Harry held the bag as each of his friends pulled out a stone. When they all opened their hands, it was Daphne who had the lucky red stone. Draco pouted.

"I'll do requests," Daphne promised. "Any hex you want me to cast, I'll cast it."

They spent the rest of the time before dinner discussing what hexes to cast. Dinner came and went quickly, and then they spent the hours before curfew in a secondary Potions classroom practicing their spells. They would have stayed longer, for they had no fear of wandering the dungeons at night, but their beds were calling to them.

Harry felt better after practicing his spells, as he always did. Each spell was a reminder to him that he was a wizard, he was special. He would never have to put up with Dudley's hitting again, or Uncle Vernon's shouting, or Aunt Petunia's orders, because the Dursleys hated and feared magic. All too soon, the summer holiday would be here, and Harry would be able to pay the Muggles back for some of the hell he'd endured. He couldn't actually cast spells, but giving them a good scare would be almost as fun. It was with those pleasant thoughts in his mind that Harry fell asleep.


	16. The Dragon Egg

"I wish I were going," Pansy said sadly as they got up from the lunch table. It was Friday, and after a week of anticipation, the day of Hagrid's come-uppance had arrived.

"Myself as well," Tracy moped, her usual smile nowhere to be seen. "Woe is us."

"We've discussed this," Daphne said patiently. "It can only be Harry, Millie, and myself."

"Doesn't mean we have to be happy about it." Draco griped, kicking moodily at a spot of nothing on the floor. "Big oaf has insulted all of us, saying what he said."

"He had no right to talk that way," Millie agreed. "Not when he's not even a proper wizard. He's just the outdoors janitor."

"Even if he had finished school," Theo argued, "he wasn't in Slytherin. Only fellow Slytherins may judge us."

"Solidarity," Goyle nodded.

"I like that." Crabbe grunted.

"It's just a question of being judged by one's peers," Draco continued, "and none of the other Houses are our equals."

"Isn't that the truth?" Millie asked rhetorically.

"Hagrid seemed a decent fellow," Harry said morosely. "When he took me away from the Muggles, I thought he was so nice. He even brought me a birthday cake, the first one I'd ever had. He did some magic, too."

"Magic!" Draco said, astounded. "What sort of magic?"

"He gave Dudley a pig's tail," Harry told him.

"So that's what Hagrid meant when he said he wanted to give your cousin a matching set of ears!" Millie exclaimed.

"He's not supposed to do magic!" Draco was still very surprised, to judge by the tone of his voice. "He was expelled, and they snap your wand when you get expelled."

"Indubitably," Tracy agreed. "How could he have done magic? Where would he have gotten a wand from?"

"He didn't use a wand," Harry said. "He was pointing his umbrella at things. Dudley, the firegrate to start a fire, and so on."

"He could probably be in a lot of trouble if anybody found out about that," Theo mused, scratching his chin. "If he kept the pieces of his wand, he could have put them into his umbrella. You'll have to make sure he doesn't get near it while you're hexing him."

"That's only if he's sober enough to remember," Pansy laughed.

"When Hagrid and I got to Diagon Alley, he ran off to the pub as soon as he could," Harry said, getting back to his original story. "I went to get my robes fitted, and he went back to the Leaky Cauldron, for a pick-me-up, he said. He knocked on the window while Draco and I were standing on the stools, but he left quick enough."

"He probably ducked back inside for another 'pick-me-up'," Theo said with a sneer.

"Oh, I know that's what he did," Harry assured him. "I took a very long time to find my wand, and Hagrid must've spent all that time drinking. When he finally came along, he was bellowing and shouting just like my Uncle Vernon."

"That he was," Draco said, remembering. "His face was pretty red, as I recall."

"Drinking in front of students," Millie said with audible disdain. "It's disgusting. What sort of example is he setting? That flask he carries around, he's always having a sip out of it."

"And he was unaccountably rude to Draco's father. Mister Malfoy was perfectly pleasant to me," Harry told his other friends, "and Hagrid was carrying on like the world was ending. After he dragged me away, he said all sorts of nasty things."

"Oh really?" Draco asked curiously. "Like what?"

"Well, he said your whole family was trouble and that I'd be better off staying away from you." Harry flushed at even speaking the awful things Hagrid had said.

"Boils," Draco stated, folding his arms.

"What?" Crabbe asked.

"Boils," Draco repeated. "Daphne, I want Hagrid to get some boils on his arse. Take care of it for me, would you love?"

Daphne smirked. "Be glad to. Everyone else decide what they want me to cast for hexes?"

As the others gave Daphne their requests, Theo walked next to Harry. "So you've got the story straight?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Hagrid was drinking and insulted Professor Snape. We got very angry and hexed him. Then we ran away."

"Good," Theo said, pleased. "This is a risky business, you know," he cautioned.

"I know," Harry said somberly. "It's probably going to mean lost points and detention for us all."

"Not as much as if it gets out that we planned this all," Millie chimed in, "or if all of us were going down there."

"Indeed," Theo agreed. "It's worth it, though."

"Yup," Millie said. "Professor Snape told us to make sure we had good reason for doing the things we did. Defending his good name is certainly reason enough."

"Well I just hope his name is good and worthy of defence," Theo said quietly. "I don't want to believe he's the bad guy in this muddle about the Stone, but I can't deny the evidence."

"Let's not get into this argument again," Harry pleaded. "Let's just keep focus on the short-term for now. We defend our House."

They all scurried off to the unused Potions classroom that they had turned into their own private practice space. Harry, Millie, and Daphne all set to casting their spells, practicing for teatime. The others cast, read, or wrote assignments. May was here, and examinations were coming soon.

When the bell tolled three o'clock, Harry and the two girls left the castle. Wordlessly, each ready for the task ahead, they walked down the path and across the grass at an agonizingly slow pace. Smoke curled up to the sky, despite the temperate weather.

Harry knocked firmly on Hagrid's door. Fang began barking, drowning out anything the Gamekeeper might have said. After a few minutes, the door opened a crack, and Hagrid stuck his face out.

"I dinae expect you lot to come back after last week," he said brusquely, "but I'm very busy today. Perhaps next week." He started to close the door.

Millie stuck her foot in the door. Before Hagrid could react, all three Slytherins had pushed their way inside and drawn their wands.

"'Ere now, what's this all about?" Hagrid demanded, outraged.

"Last week you insulted our Head of House," Millie informed him. "We're here to extract retribution."

"Revenge, yeh mean," Hagrid said, folding his arms across his chest. "The Headmaster'll hear about this, mark my words."

"No doubt," Daphne said cooly, "but how else are we supposed to react when you insult our House right in front of us? No, I think our punishment will be quite lenient."

Harry was focused on keeping his wand pointed at Hagrid, but he was being distracted by the heat of the roaring fireplace. The interior of the hut was sweltering, and Harry was sweating profusely.

There was a rattling sound from the fireplace.

"Well," Hagrid boomed, talking loudly, "do what yeh feel yeh have ter do. I don't suppose apologizin' would do any good."

"What was that noise?" Millie asked, not allowing herself to be distracted. The rattle came again, like iron clacking on iron.

"It's nothin'," Hagrid said. "Jus' the wind rattlin' this shaky ol' place."

"It's coming from the fireplace," Daphne said, and she headed in that direction.

"Please, won't yeh all jus' get on with it?" Hagrid pleaded with them, but Daphne was resolute. She peered into the fireplace, under the pot that sat above the burning coals.

"Hagrid!" she half-shouted. "What are you doing with one of those?" she demanded.

"What is it?" Harry asked as he rushed over to see. Hagrid groaned and put his face in his hands.

"It's a dragon egg," Daphne told him. "Hagrid, have you taken complete leave of your senses? Breeding dragons is illegal! It's a direct violation of the Warlock's Convention of Seventeen-oh-nine. Even you should know that."

"A dragon egg?" Millie asked, coming closer. "Wicked! Where'd you get it, Hagrid? Must've cost a fortune."

"Won it," he muttered, very embarrassed. "Las' night I were down in the village havin' me a few drinks. Got into a card game with a stranger, an' he put it up fer stakes. Lucky draw I got, three kings an' a pair o' sevens, so I took the egg. I think he were quite glad ter be rid of it, but me, I'm happier 'n' a clam."

"What are you going to do when it hatches?" Daphne demanded. "Keep it in here all the time? Hagrid, you live in a wooden house!"

"I bin doin' some readin'," Hagrid said, ignoring the admonition and pulling a book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library -- Dragon Breeding For Pleasure and Profit. It's an older book, teh be sure, but that sort'a information dinae go bad. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, yeh feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here -- how to recognize diff'rent breeds an' diff'rent eggs. This one I gots here is a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

"Hagrid, this is insane," Harry tried to reason with him. The big man wasn't paying any attention, just prattling on about baby dragons.

"Well, this has been interesting," Millie said, "but we have to be going now."

Hagrid stopped his chatter. "Yeh ain't goin' ter hex me? Yeh won't be tellin' anyone about this, will yeh?" he asked, his face full of hope.

"We've got something better than a hexing," Millie told him. "Hagrid, you're asking us to be accessories to a crime. We have to report this."

"Yeh can't!" Harry thought Hagrid's face might fall off, so heart-broken did he look.

"There might be another way," Daphne said in a silky tone. Everyone looked to her. "Hagrid, what's our silence worth to you?"

The big man scowled. "What would yeh be needin' money fer? Yeh've all got more'n yeh know what ter do with."

Daphne shook her head, sending her straight blonde hair waving around. "Not money, Hagrid; information. We want to know more about the magic guarding the Philosopher's Stone."

From the look on Hagrid's face, they knew they had him cornered. He didn't dare tell them, but he didn't dare refuse to tell them either. He was damned if he did, and doomed if he didn't.

Daphne smiled sweetly at him. "We'll talk more about this next week," she said with a tone full of sugar. "Harry? Millie? Let's go."

As they walked down the steps to the dungeons and headed towards the dorm, they discussed what sort of information they should ask for, as well as the possibility that Hagrid might be insane.

"We'll want to know what the protections on the Stone are," Millie said. "And also what professor set which protections."

"What in the name of the Founders does he think he's doing with a bloody dragon egg?" Daphne demanded. "He thinks he can hatch the bloody thing?"

"Trying to raise a dragon in that tiny hut?" Harry asked, still incredulous. "He's a complete loon."

"He had to have been completely drunk to have even considered taking that dragon egg as stakes," Daphne declared, "but it makes no nevermind to me. Now we've got him over a barrel and can find out everything we need to know about the Stone and the protections over it."

They continued on their way, completely unaware of a pair of wide, freckled ears that had heard everything.

* * *

Over the next week, the Slytherins continued revising for their examinations. Though disappointed when told that Hagrid hadn't received his hexing, the others were beyond gleeful at the blackmail material they now had. It was hard to maintain a cool demeanor, acting as though everything were normal. They were so focused on studying and keeping things under wraps, they didn't even bother to antagonize Weasley, though he gave them several excellent opportunities.

After Quidditch practices, one of their group would always drift nearby to Hagrid's hut and peer in the grimy, dirt-stained window. On Tuesday afternoon, Millie reported that the dragon had hatched. This was great news, because it would be much more difficult for Hagrid to rid himself of a live dragon.

"Not that there's much worry of that," Daphne said disparagingly. "What with the way he was prattling on about all the stuff he found out from books-"

"Hey!" Theo objected. "Don't knock what you can learn from books!"

"I didn't even realize he knew how to read," Draco laughed.

Friday came not soon enough, and Potions lecture seemed to drag on and on. When they were finally free, the Slytherins calmly exited the classroom, calmly walked down the hall, calmly rounded the corner, and bolted for the Great Hall. They ate as quickly as they could, then hurried back into the dungeons to do some more revising.

"Let's get to work," Daphne said, drawing her wand.

"What for?" Harry asked. "Aren't we just going to ask him questions?"

"Yes," Daphne answered him, "but the information is in exchange for us not telling about the dragon. He still gets his hexing for insulting our House."

"Surely you hadn't forgotten," Draco said to him.

Harry shook his head. "No, I hadn't forgotten the insult, but with the dragon egg and all, I thought we weren't going to hex him."

"Vengeance is a dish best served cold," Tracy told him. "You might have put it off for a bit because of the egg, but you can't forget what he did to earn that hexing in the first place."

Harry considered that for a moment. It made sense. He was proud of his good marks, and Snape certainly had nothing to do with what he earned in Astronomy, Charms, or Defence Against the Dark Arts. The only thing Snape could influence was his Potions marks, and Harry knew he'd earned every single point.

"You're right," he conceded. "We musn't forget to hex him after we know everything. But," he cautioned, "we can't hex him until we know everything either."

"Right," Daphne said. "I've got the list of questions. We'll get our answers."

* * *

When Harry knocked on Hagrid's door a few hours, Hagrid was quick to throw the door open for them. They tramped in, looking around for the dragon.

"Yer too late," Hagrid told them, drinking from a large goblet. "Li'l Norbert's gone."

"Gone?" they said, not believing.

"Aye," he said, sounding very pleased with himself. "So ye've got nothing ter blackmail me with." He took another large swallow.

"Where's it gone to?" Daphne demanded.

"I sent him ter Romania with Charlie Weasley," Hagrid told them, boasting of his own cleverness. "He works with 'em there, so Norbert'll be safe."

"Weasley!" Harry exclaimed.

Hagrid's face clouded. "I shouldn'a said that," he muttered.

"How did Charlie Weasley know about the dragon?" Millie asked him. "Where did he take the little bleeder?"

"Young Ron tol' me about Romania, an' he gone off ter the village to visit with his brother, and-" Hagrid stopped speaking. He put down his goblet. "I shouldn'a said that," he said again, his voice shaky.

"Weasley's left school grounds?" Daphne said, not believing her ears. "Millie, Harry, let's go!" They ran for the castle.

"Got. To tell. Professor. Snape." Millie panted as they ran.

They burst through the main doors and were running pell mell when Professor McGonagall stepped into the corridor. "Halt!" she demanded. The three Slytherins skidded to a stop. "What is the meaning of this? Running in the corridors is not allowed," she told them. "It is a reckless and dangerous activity. Explain yourselves immediately."

Harry looked at Millie. Millie looked at Daphne. Daphne looked at Harry. They all nodded. "Ron Weasley has left school grounds, Professor," he said, trying to sound believable.

"Rubbish," she told him at once.

"It's true!" Daphne came to his aid. "He's helping smuggle a dragon to Romania!"

"Miss Greengrass, you will cease telling such outrageous lies at once."

"She's not lying," Millie protested. "We've seen the dragon ourselves!" They had only seen the dragon through the windows of Hagrid's hut, but that counted.

"Silence!" Professor McGonagall's lips were a thin, white line. She stared down her nose at them, her face all pinched up. "I will not listen to such disgusting falsehoods. You're obviously only trying to get Mister Weasley in trouble. Detention for all three of you! Get back to your House immediately. I shall be speaking with Professor Snape about this, you mark my words. I will not have you lying to teachers. Go!"

Harry wilted in the face of McGonagall's wrath. It wasn't fair, he seethed. Just because they were in Slytherin, people automatically assumed that they were lying about everything. Even Professor McGonagall, who was noted for being fair and impartial, wouldn't believe them simply because the story was so incredible, and she automatically assumed the worst about them.

However Weasley had learned about the dragon, he'd obviously taken it on himself to destroy the leverage the Slytherins had over Hagrid, and now they had detention on top of it. It made him want to hit something.

There was no opportunity for them to plot a suitable vengeance upon Weasley, but word reached them through the grapevine that Professor Snape had caught Weasley sneaking back into the castle after curfew and assigned him detention, in addition to taking points. They took a small amount of comfort in this news; at least they hadn't lost any points.

That evening, Harry, Daphne, and Millie went to McGonagall's office after classes were over.

"Professor? Daphne said, knocking on the door. "May we please have a few minutes of your time?"

"Certainly, Miss Greengrass. All of you come in. Did you have a question about the homework?"

"Actually, ma'am, we were sort of hoping you'd see fit to cancel our detentions."

McGonagall arched one eyebrow.

"You gave us detention because you thought we'd lied to you about Weasley leaving school grounds, but Professor Snape caught Weasley sneaking back into the castle after curfew that night, so we didn't lie to you."

"Miss Greengrass, you were given detention for making up ridiculous stories about dragons. While I might have listened to you reporting a student out of bounds, to have added such an implausible fantasy to your story strikes me as plainly malicious. I will not tolerate lying to the staff. You will serve detention as planned."

"When might that be, Professor?"

"I am currently working on the details with Mister Filch. You will be notified. Was there anything else?"

"No, ma'am," Daphne said with a sigh.

"Dismissed."

Harry tried not to feel too upset as they headed back to the common room.

"Well, what's she supposed to think? Be fair. It is a pretty outrageous story."

"It also happens to be true," Daphne said.

"Put yourself in her shoes. Would you believe us?"

"Probably not. Doesn't mean I like this any better."

"I think we should hex Hagrid even more for getting us detention."

"I think hexing Hagrid might get us _more_ detention," Harry said. "I'm thinking we should forget the whole thing."

"That's probably a good idea," Millie said. "I'm going to have a hard enough time explaining this one to my parents."

"Can we at least hex Weasley then? This _is_ all his fault," Daphne said.

"Tempting. Very tempting."

The week passed slowly, as their days were filled with potions ingredients, charms, hexes, dates of magical discoveries, dates of goblin rebellions, moons, stars, herbs, fungi, and everything else they'd learned about during the past school year. Harry and the others studied long into the night.

There was no time for chess or Exploding Snap or other games. The Slytherin common room was a quiet place nowadays as every student focused on reading books and scribbling notes. Professor Snape began to spend long hours sitting in a chair by the fireplace grading homework, but always ready to put it aside to help someone with a question.

They didn't just ask him about Potions. The Potions Master did hear plenty of those questions, of course, but he also answered inquiries about Charms, hexes, jinxes, curses, Ancient Runes (which was a class older students could take), Arithmancy (likewise), herbs, fungi, and Transfiguration. All of the students went to their Head at least once with a problem. Professor Snape helped everyone, never raising his voice, never giving up on them. It was plain to see that everyone revered him.

"Those facts have got to be wrong," Harry said to Theo one night as they were getting ready for bed. "I just can't believe that Snape tried to hurt me."

"Are we going to bring this up again?" Draco said tiredly.

Theo's face was troubled. "No, Harry's right. I've watched Snape this week, too, and it's not clicking."

"Professor Snape cares a lot about us," Harry said. "Any fool can see that."

"Ah, so you're a fool, are you?" Draco said slyly.

Harry made a face at him. "You see it too, Draco. Don't deny it. He's our Head of House; I say we go to him with what we know about the Stone. He'll help us. I just know it."

Draco nodded. "I do see it," he agreed. "Maybe we ought to just forget about the whole thing. Maybe Quirrell only wants the Stone to cure his stutter."

The boys all laughed. "Good one, Draco," Goyle grinned.

"That would be truly horrible," the blond boy continued. "Can you imagine being immortal and stuttering constantly? Who would want to?" He started laughing again.

"We're not forgetting anything," Harry said sharply. "It was Quirrell who tried to kill me, and I mean to make him answer for it."

Draco sobered quickly. "Right. I hadn't forgotten that."

Theo lay down and pulled his sheets up to his chin. "We'll talk about it in the morning," he yawned. "Right now, I couldn't even make a cheese sandwich."

* * *

Monday morning at breakfast, notes were delivered to Harry, Millie, and Daphne. All three notes were identical messages from McGonagall informing of the terms for their detentions.

 

Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.

M. McGonagall   
Deputy Headmistress  
  
---  
  
 

With all the studying they'd been doing, Harry had quite forgotten about their detention. Now that he was reminded, he was still furious about the injustice of the whole situation.

"Not only are the three of us going to be wrongly serving detention, but we'll also miss out on a night's studying," Daphne said. 

Harry laughed sharply. "I'll skiv on studying Transfiguration to make up for the time lost."

"That old hag didn't want to believe us," Millie agreed, "so I'm not going to bother myself with studying for her class."

"If she asks me why my mark is so bad, I won't hesitate to tell her that I couldn't study because I was wrongly given detention," Daphne concured. "Forget Transfiguration."

"Yes, forget it," Theo advised. "We've got Herbology to think about right now."

"Fine," Pansy mocked him. "We'll think about plants, and you can think about Mandy."

Theo rolled his eyes. "I think I'm going to take up with her," he said in an exasperated tone, "just to have the satisfaction of making you shut your mouth for five bloody minutes."

Pansy smirked at him. "Aww, did I hurt your feelings, Teddy?"

He ignored her. "Now then, Millie, tell me about dittany."

"Time to go to class," Harry sighed as he stood up. Right now, he wished he were going to Potions lecture. Watching Professor Snape abuse Weasley would probably do wonders for his mood.

Theo quizzed them all on the walk down to the greenhouses. Harry knew the answers to the questions Theo asked him, the questions Theo asked his other friends, and the questions that Professor Sprout asked the class. He wasn't worried about his examination, not when Herbology was so closely tied to Potions, a subject he truly enjoyed.

Terry, Mandy, and Padma all said hello to him as he went to his station. Ever since the picnic, the three Ravenclaws had gone out of their way to be friendly, and that was nice. His fellow Slytherins were already friends with the trio, but Harry was pleased that he was getting on well with them too.

After Herbology was History of Magic, which Harry hated. Even when he tried to stay awake, he dozed off after a few minutes. Reading the book was boring enough, but Binns' monotonic droning made him want to learn exorcism. The bell woke him for lunch, and he stumbled down the corridor.

"I'm hungry," Goyle said, rubbing his tummy.

"Yeah," Crabbe agreed. "Food is good." He turned to glare at Draco. "And don't call me a fathead!"

Draco affected an air of injured innocence. "The very thought never crossed my mind."

They spent their free period after lunch studying in the library. While the dungeons were cozy, time they spent traipsing up and down the stairs was better spent reading. Harry was regretful when their free period was over. They couldn't forget about Transfiguration any longer.

Professor McGonagall's eyes were cold and hard as they filed into her classroom. The Slytherins wordlessly took their seats and prepared to be lectured. She was always polite, but sometimes she spoke in an acid tone, and they could tell she didn't think much of them. Ever since she had assigned Harry, Millie, and Daphne detention, the Slytherins hadn't liked the Deputy Headmistress much either, so it balanced out.

Harry half-listened to her lecture. She was just reviewing the material they'd covered last week, and he was bored. His thoughts drifted to his detention in a few hours. He'd gotten in trouble at Muggle school before, but he suspected that his punishment would be at least more interesting than writing lines on the chalkboard.

"Mister Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked. Bugger, she'd caught him not paying attention.

"Sorry, could you repeat the question? I don't think I heard it all," Harry said casually. He wasn't going to let her get to him.

"Five points from Slytherin, Mister Potter," she said coldly.

The bell rang before he could protest, and they quickly headed back to the dungeons. Harry slouched along in a foul mood. Nothing was going right today. He tried not to let it bother him while he concentrated on his homework, but he kept staring off into space.

He barely tasted his dinner. He didn't try to do anymore homework and spent some time getting to know his chessmen. When the hour for his detention rolled around, Harry was still in a bad mood, so when he, Daphne, and Millie came up the stone steps from the dungeons into the entrance hall, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he saw who else was present.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.


	17. Detention

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded, his voice full of hatred and malice. Millie and Daphne flanked him, folding their arms across their chests imposingly.

Ron Weasley glared back across the entrance hall at him. The git turned to look at Mr. Filch, who was grinning sadistically. "I don't want to serve detention with them," he protested.

"Nobody cares what you want, Weasley," said Filch in a gravelly voice. "When it comes to detentions, you don't get to do things you like." He lit a lamp and leered around at them, the lantern casting flickering shadows on his pock-marked face. "Follow me," he said ominously.

Filch led the way outside, marching across the dark ground. "Bet you'll think twice about breaking rules again," he taunted them. "Oh yes, some hard work'll show you. Hard work and pain are the best teachers in the world, if you ask me. Such a pity they phased out the old punishments. Hangin' by your wrists for a few days on the ceiling, that'd teach you. I've still got the chains in my office, you know. I keep 'em well-oiled in case they ever change their minds."

The old man's voice was raspy, as though he'd spent a great many years outside in rough weather. In telling them about the old punishments, he sounded wistful, but not terribly disappointed. He must know what they would be doing tonight, Harry realized, and it was sufficiently horrible that the caretaker didn't think they were getting off easily.

"Don't think of running off, now either," he warned them. "It'll only be worse for you if you do."

The moon was bright, but the sky was cloudy. Harry knew that Professor Sinistra, watching the stars, would be livid, taking the presence of the clouds as a personal affront. The intermittent light threw shadows everywhere. Ahead, Harry could see the lighted window of Hagrid's hut.

"Is 'at you, Filch?" Hagrid's booming voice called out. "Hurry up, I want teh get started."

"Wants to get started drinking," Daphne whispered to Harry.

Harry's heart fell. Hagrid certainly wouldn't go easy on them after what they'd done and tried to do. This night was looking longer and longer. He suppressed a groan.

"Yer late," Hagrid rumbled at them. He peered intently into their faces. "Filch, yeh bin tellin' 'em tales an' scarin' 'em? 'At's not yer place. Yeh've done yer bit. I'll take over from here."

"Bah," said the old man, spitting on the ground. "I'll be back at dawn for what's left of 'em." Without further comment, he took his lantern and went back to the castle.

"Hope yeh dressed warm," Hagrid said ominously. "We're goin' in ter the forest teh look fer summat."

"The forest!" all four students exclaimed together.

"'At's right," Hagrid answered them. "Summat's bin huntin' unicorns, and we're gonna track it down."

"There's all sorts of Dark creatures in there!" Millie protested.

"Then you should feel right at home," Weasley muttered.

"Shut up, Weasley!" Daphne snapped at him. "Isn't the forest out-of-bounds to students?" she demanded of Hagrid.

"Should've thought o' that before yeh went breakin' rules, now, shouldn't yeh have?" Hagrid replied.

"We didn't break any rules!" Harry shouted at him. "Professor McGonagall thought we were lying about your bloody dragon! She didn't believe us just because we're Slytherins!"

"What dragon?" Weasley asked innocently.

"You know very well what dragon, Weasley!" Millie yelled at him. "How'd you get detention, anyway?"

Weasley was silent, staring at Millie with hate in his eyes.

"Professor Snape caught you sneaking back inside the castle, didn't he?" Daphne crowed.

"I wondered how he seemed to be waiting for me," Weasley said slowly. "You tattled on me, didn't you?"

"You should have left well enough alone," Harry sneered at him. The nerve of that git!

"Since everyone here knows we weren't lying," Millie said conclusively, "the three of us will wait right here."

"Bye-bye, boys," Daphne said, waving at them. "Have fun searching the forest!"

"Yeh'll do as yer told," Hagrid growled at them. The Slytherins stared back at him defiantly. It was a contest of wills, and Hagrid really had no chance. Armoured by the knowledge that they were in the right, Harry, Millie, and Daphne stood firm. Finally Hagrid looked away.

"C'mon, Ron," he grumbled. He picked up his lantern and crossbow. Fang followed close at his heels as Hagrid stomped off towards the treeline.

Weasley glowered at them for a moment. "You'll get yours," he threatened before he also followed.

"This could have been a lot worse," Daphne commented, sitting down on the grass.

"Yeah, but we're stuck here for the next few hours," Harry pointed out. "Filch said he'd be back at _dawn_?"

"Only from one point of view," Millie said, reaching into her robes and pulling out her collapsible brass telescope. "I came prepared."

"That's funny," Daphne smirked, also reaching into her robes. She brought out a pack of cards and held them up. "Because so did I!"

Harry laughed. By Merlin, he loved his friends.

They watched the stars and noted the way the planets had shifted. Daphne observed that Mars was unusually bright. Whenever clouds covered up the sky, they played card games. They talked about the various unpleasant fates that Weasley deserved.

About two hours had passed when Harry heard a noise from the forest. He turned, hoping it would be Hagrid, done with Weasley's detention, so he could go sleep. He didn't see the glow from the big man's lantern. He peered into the darkness, sure his mind was playing tricks on him. The shadows couldn't be moving, surely?

A cold wave of terror gripped him. The shadows were moving, and one of them was drawing closer. Not knowing what was going on, he stood and drew his wand. The girls had risen with him, and they too had their wands out.

The moon appeared suddenly from behind a cloud, and moonlight revealed a figure cloaked in shadow, with bright silver liquid dripping from its mouth. The strange creature came towards him, quicker than anything, stretched out long and crawling across the ground like some stalking beast.

Harry opened his mouth to scream, but only a dry wheeze of air came out. Daphne was terrified too, as her piercing shriek nearly deafened him. Surely someone would hear her.

A pain like he'd never felt before lanced through his head. It was as though his scar were on fire. Brilliant fireworks exploded in his vision. Half blinded, he staggered backward and fell to his knees, imagining he heard hooves galloping nearby.

Then suddenly the pain was gone. Harry opened his eyes and thought he must be dreaming. There was a centaur standing over him. He recognized it from the description in Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them. It had white-blond hair and bright blue eyes.

"Are you all right?" it asked, reaching out to pull Harry to his feet. "You are uninjured?"

"Yes, I think so," Harry said faintly. He looked over his shoulder at Daphne and Millie, who were wide-eyed and frozen in place. He looked back at the centaur. "What in the name of Hogwarts was that- that thing?"

The centaur didn't answer his question. "You are Harry Potter," it said. "You had best be back to the castle. It is not safe for you here, at night especially."

"We, we have detention," Millie said, her voice just as faint as Harry's.

The centaur snorted. "I am Firenze," he introduced himself. "That silver liquid you saw was unicorn's blood. Something has entered the forest to slay these noble beasts. Do you know what unicorn's blood is used for?"

Harry tried to think past his fright. He failed. "No," he said.

"It is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," Firenze said darkly. "Only one who has nothing to lose and everything to gain would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death. Such life comes at a terrible price, though. You would have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will live but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Harry didn't know what to think. "Who would do such a thing?" he wondered. "Wouldn't it be better to die?"

"It would be," Firenze agreed, "but if there were something else that you could drink, something that would grant unending life, full strength and full power, Mister Potter, wouldn't that be worth it? Do you know what is hidden in the school, Mister Potter?"

"The Philosopher's Stone!" Harry exclaimed. "Of course, the Elixir of Life! But who-?"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting a single chance?"

An iron fist clamped itself down around Harry's heart and throat. Over the rustling of the breeze in the trees, he heard, plain as day, Hagrid's words to him on the night they had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die."

"Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was-" He couldn't even say it. "That was Voldemort?"

Daphne and Millie pressed up against each other in fear of the dreaded name. Millie had heard him speak it before, but her reaction was no less awed than before.

"Harry!" Hagrid called out. "Harry, are yeh a' right?"

"I take my leave of you, Mister Potter," Firenze said, disappearing into the night from whence he had come.

"We're fine, Hagrid," Harry called out.

"Thank goodness," he said, lumbering up. "I found another dead unicorn," he told them. "The centaurs tol' me summat's been roamin' around, and it were best if yeh dinae stay near the forest tonight."

"Or any night," Harry agreed. "We'll just be going back now." Hagrid didn't object. Weasley scowled by way of farewell.

Harry was as tense as a taut string on the walk back. If someone touched him the wrong way, he was likely to break and run. Fortunately there were no further incidents as he and his friends quick-stepped it back to safety, but the deceptive quiet didn't prevent him from carrying his wand in his tight-clenched fist.

When they reached the safety of the common room, he bid Daphne and Millie a good night and retired to his dorm room where he hung up his cloak, pulled off his robes, got into bed, and drew the bedcovers up to his chin. He shut his eyes tightly and waited for sleep to come. Every slightest sound had him jumping. At one point he even reached out to grab his wand. Finally he could bear it no more.

 _This is the Slytherin dormitory_ , he told himself firmly. _I'm perfectly safe here. Now go to sleep._

And sleep he did.

* * *

"We've got to tell someone," Harry said firmly. "This has gotten way out of hand."

The first year Slytherins were gathered in the boys dormitory. Now, after lunch, was the only free time they'd had. While Harry had been impatient to share his new knowledge with his friends, there hadn't been time to address the issue thoroughly. Together in the privacy of the dorm, he, Millie, and Daphne told the others what had happened in the forest. They told about Firenze, the unicorns, and the shadowy figure that had tried to attack them.

"We'll tell Professor Snape," Draco decided.

"Utterly preposterous," Tracy objected. "He is still a suspect."

"He's no more guilty than I am," Millie declared.

"And you have ironclad proof, do you?" Pansy asked sarcastically. "You're one hundred percent sure of his innocence."

"Obviously if such proof existed, we could just go lay our troubles before him," Theo said. "I can't conceive of how it could or would be Snape, but the possibility is there, however remote."

"So what do we do?" Daphne asked. "We're stuck in the middle."

"We go to the Headmaster," Theo said. A volley of protests met that suggestion. "Quiet," he said, raising his voice to be heard. "I don't think much of the Muggle Lover either, but Dumbledore is said to be the greatest wizard of our age. They say he's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. Back during the war, Hogwarts was the only place that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named never attacked."

"So long as Dumbledore is here, You-Know-Who won't dare to come after the Stone," Tracy said, "and there's still the matter of the magical defences. We don't know them, but you can bet that Snape would never tell Quirrell how to solve his test."

"The Stone is safe," Harry decided, "but we should go to Dumbledore anyway. I think he ought to hear what the centaur told us."

"What, that You-Know-Who is after the Stone?" Pansy scorned. "I'm sure he already knows that. Why do you think the Stone was moved here from Gringotts? Don't forget: they have dragons at Gringotts."

They all considered that.

"Pansy is right, too," Draco said. "What are we going to tell Dumbledore that he doesn't already know?"

"So what do we do?" Millie asked, kicking at the leg of her desk.

"We can't do anything," Daphne answered. "We just have to trust Dumbledore to take care of it."

"I think we can trust him," Harry said. "He's always opposed You-Know-Who. Who could take care of the Stone better?"

"Probably no one," Theo agreed. He pulled out his Potions text. "Now then, I think we've about exhausted this conversation. Harry, tell me about root of asphodel."

* * *

Convinced that Dumbledore had the situation under control, they didn't let it bother them anymore. Harry had managed to shake off the worry that Voldemort was lurking right around the corner ready to snatch the Stone and murder him in the night. After their conversation, the Slytherins devoted all of their non-classroom time to studying.

Their exams took place beginning the following Monday. With summer well-started, the heat was mildly uncomfortable, more so in the large classroom where they sat the written examinations for all of their subjects. They had been given special quills enchanted with an Anti-Cheating Charm just for the occasion.

In addition to the written tests, they had practical examinations. Professor Flitwick called them into his classroom one at a time to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across his desk. Old McGonagall watched them with a steely gaze as they attempted to turn a fieldmouse into a snuffbox. Points were given for how pretty the box was, but taken away if it still had whiskers. Professor Snape's exam was a bit ironic. They had to remember how to brew a Forgetfulness Potion.

Their final exam was on Wednesday, and Harry cheered with his friends when Professor Binns instructed them to lay down their quills and roll up their parchment. The agonizing hour of answering questions about batty old wizards and goblin uprisings was ended, and they were free, gloriously free, for a whole week until their marks came back.

"That was much easier than I thought," he heard Granger saying as the crowds of students made their way out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the uprising of Elfric the Eager or the Sixteen-thirty-seven Werewolf Code of Conduct."

God, her voice was so prissy and stuck-up. He'd studied as much as he could stomach for this exam, and still he feared what sort of mark he would receive. He looked over at Draco and tipped his head in Granger's direction. Harry rolled his eyes, prompting Draco to smile.

Outside, the first years lounged about in the warm June weather. They sprawled about in the shade under a tree. Down by the lake they could see the twin Weasley brothers tickling the tentacles of the giant squid.

"I hope it eats them," Draco said, aimlessly pulling apart blades of grass. "Couldn't happen to uglier people."

Confident that Dumbledore had everything well taken care of, they'd let the matter of the Philosopher's Stone drop in favour of studying and preparing and revising. Now that too was behind them, and they were free to just be kids again. They made small talk about nothing at all. They played games. The afternoon was very lazy and indulgent. It was finally drawing towards teatime when Harry felt intense pain in his scar. He clapped his hands to his forehead with a startled exclamation.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Draco asked. He hunched down and looked up into Harry's face.

"My scar," he breathed through the pain. "Burning."

"It's been fine since the forest!" Theo said. "Why is it hurting all of a sudden?"

Harry felt like he was back in his nightmares. All he could think about was the shadow man -- Voldemort! -- who was after the Stone. He rubbed at his scar, trying to ease the pain. "It's a warning," he said sure without knowing why. "Danger is coming."

Pansy was eyeing him suspiciously. "You sound strange, Harry. Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey."

He shook his head. "I'm not ill," he said. "I can't stay in the hospital wing. Voldemort is coming. I can't let him get the Stone."

All of his friends winced as he spoke the forbidden name. He was past worrying about their delicate ears for the moment. "Quirrell must have found out how to get past Fluffy," he said. He took off for Hagrid's hut with his friends trying to catch up.

"Hagrid, open up!" Harry half-shouted, pounding on the door. "We need to talk to you!"

"Talk teh me, eh?" the big man said, opening the door to his home. "More likely yeh be wantin' ter hex me."

"Never mind that!" Harry said. "Have you told anyone about Fluffy? Anybody in a hooded cloak, maybe?"

Hagrid frowned. "What would yeh be wantin' ter know that fer? I ain't been meetin' with no strangers in no cloaks recently."

"Recently?" Daphne pounced on his words. "So you have met someone in a hooded cloak? When?"

"Back when I won that little thing in the card game," he said. "I dinae think much of it; lots o' folk in the Hog's Head keep their hoods up. It's an unsavoury sort of place, but there's no card playin' at the Three Broomsticks."

"The egg!" Theo exclaimed. "Of course, how could we have been so stupid! It was just too much of a coincidence to be trusted. Hagrid, you always wanted a dragon more than anything, right? And this fellow just happens to show up there with one when you do? It's too good to be true!"

"Did you talk to him, Hagrid?" Harry asked. "Did you say anything about the school?"

"I might've," Hagrid said, his eyes floating. "I tol' 'im what I do; he asked about the creatures I keep. I mentioned wantin' a dragon ever since I were a boy." He frowned, looking as though he were thinking very hard. "It's all kinda fuzzy. He kept buyin' me drinks, yeh know? Well once I tol' 'im about the dragon, 'e shows me this egg 'e 'as and would I like to play cards for it. Double-checked to make sure I could 'andle it, 'e did. I tol' 'him, after handlin' Fluffy, a dragon would be easy."

"Was he interested in Fluffy?" Millie pressed him.

"Oh yeah, o' course he were. S'not often yeh get teh hear about a three-headed dog. I tol' 'im, Fluffy's a real sweetheart if yeh just play 'im some music; he'll go right teh sleep."

"That's it!" Draco cried.

Hagrid looked horrified. "No!" he exclaimed. "I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he sputtered. "Forget that, please! Hey, where yeh goin'?"

"Where's Dumbledore's office?" Harry shouted as they ran. "He needs to hear about this! His security measures have been compromised!"

Nobody knew where the office was. None of the other teachers were to be found either. Most of them were probably busy grading exam papers. One, Harry knew, was plotting to get past Fluffy and steal the Philosopher's Stone. He said a curse he'd once heard Dudley use. It was all going so horribly wrong.

He went down to the dungeons and into his dorm room and sat on his bed. He sat staring at his invisibility cloak hanging at the foot of the bed, pondering what to do. The pain in his scar had receded somewhat, but was still very much there. He thought long and hard, trying to make up his mind to do what he knew needed to be done.

Finally he rose to his feet as the bell tolled curfew. He flung the cloak about his shoulders. "I'm going after the Stone," he said to his friends, who had been sitting with him in silence. "It's the only way to keep it safe. I can't shake this feeling that it's not protected anymore."

Draco also got to his feet. "I'm going too."

"Me as well," Theo said.

"We'll watch your back, Harry," Goyle said, nodding at Crabbe.

"You're not going without me," Tracy told him.

"Someone has to keep an eye on Theo," Pansy said obnoxiously.

"And someone needs to make sure you two don't kill each other," Millie laughed. "Count me in."

"Daphne?" Tracy asked.

Daphne shrugged. "The more the merrier."

Harry didn't object. He knew that he had to go. If his friends wanted to come with him, he had to trust them to know their business. He wordlessly led them to the common room, out into the corridor, and up to the third floor. For the whole walk they were silent, Harry scouting ahead in his wonderful cloak. Finally they were before the forbidden door.

"Music soothes the savage beast," Theo reminded them, "so we start singing as soon as the door opens. Got it? Jerusalem."

" _Alohamora!_ " Millie opened the lock. She pulled it open, and they scurried inside.

Fluffy was just as huge as Harry remembered. All three heads locked onto them, three horrible noses sniffing at them, three rumbling growls warning them away.

"And did those feet, in ancient times, walk upon England's mountains green," Theo sang loudly.

"And was the Holy Lamb of God, on England's pleasant pastures seen?" Draco joined in.

"And did the countenance divine, shine forth upon our clouded hills?" Harry bawled.

From the first sung note, Fluffy's eyelids had gotten heavy. By the third line, the growls had ceased, and the great beast was nodding its heads in time to the music.

"And was Jerusalem builded here, among these dark satanic mills?" Pansy, Millie, Daphne, and Tracy were singing now too.

"Bring me my bow of burning gold!  
Bring me my arrows of desire!  
Bring me my spear! O Clouds unfold!  
Bring me my chariot of fire!  
I will not cease from mental fight  
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand  
Till we have built Jerusalem  
In England's green and pleasant land."

Fluffy tottered from side to side and then fell to his knees before slumping to the ground. Snores began to drown out their singing, and they knew he was asleep. The dog's hot breath washed over them, and drool slipped from his mouths.

Harry looked around. Other than the way they had come in, there appeared to be no exit from the room. He glanced at his friends and gestured to the four walls. Theo shrugged. Draco looked puzzled.

"There!" Harry spied the trapdoor. He tugged at the iron ring, but couldn't budge it. Crabbe and Goyle nudged him out of the way and lifted it easily. The hole it revealed was dark and foreboding.

"No stairs," Harry said, pitching his voice under the singing, which had begun anew.

Goyle peered down into the darkness. "If there's a bed of spikes at the bottom of this hole, I'm going to be very upset," he said. Without further ado, he hopped lightly into the square of blackness and vanished from sight. "Yar!"


	18. The Race to the Stone

Goyle peered down into the darkness. "If there's a bed of spikes at the bottom of this hole, I'm going to be very upset," he said. Without further ado, he hopped lightly into the square of blackness and vanished from sight. "Yar!"

"Goyle!" Harry called down. "Goyle, are you all right?"

"I've landed on a plant, I think," his voice echoed up to them. "Jump down."

Crabbe shrugged and hopped after his friend. Theo leapt in after him. The girls jumped as well. Finally only Harry and Draco were left.

"Jumping into blackness like this is something a Gryffindor would do," Draco said, his House prejudices appearing even now. "Don't ever tell anyone I did this. Yah!" He dove down into the darkness. Harry followed without a word. He landed on some sort of plant, just as Goyle had said. He made a muffled, funny-sounding thump as he landed. All around him was gloom and darkness.

"Someone make a light," Harry called out.

" _Lumos!_ " Tracy said. Then she shrieked. "Get out of here!"

The light revealed a huge plant with vines and tendrils everywhere. Subtly, sneakily, vines had crept up in the darkness and ensnared them. Now, as they realized their predicament, they tried to free themselves, but the creepers bound them faster the harder they struggled.

"It's Devil's Snare!" Theo shouted. "It likes damp and dark! We need light and heat!" He arched back as the vines went for his throat.

" _Incendio!_ " Goyle shouted, having managed to draw his wand. Bright orange flames leapt from the tip, lighting all over the plant. Instantly the creeper vines began to retreat, wriggling and flailing to escape. One by one, they each pulled themselves free of the loosening vines and onto stone floor.

"Good work, Goyle," Theo said. "Once again, your little fire spell saves the day."

"If you need fire, I'm your man," Goyle said, grinning.

"You're just destined to be a pyromancer," Millie ribbed him. "Thankfully stone doesn't burn, so our part of the castle is safe."

The only way forward was down the sloping stone passageway. Apart from their footsteps, all they could hear was the sound of their own breathing and the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The light at the end of the corridor beckoned to them, and Tracy extinguished her wandlight.

"What's that sound?" Pansy asked.

As they strained their ears, a fluttering, rustling, clinking sound could be heard from up ahead. It came from a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above their heads. It was filled with small birds, bright like jewels, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite wall, they could see a plain, heavy wooden door. They stood at the entrance to the room, considering.

"Chances of being attacked by birds if we step into this room?" Draco asked lightly.

"Probably fairly high," Theo mused. He drew his wand and pointed it at the far door. "I think we're too far away, but _Alohomora!_ " A jet of white light shot from the tip of his wand, but fell short of the door. "One of us has to go out there."

"I will," Tracy said confidently. "I can unlock that door." Without waiting for anyone to object, she darted into the light-filled room, running across the smooth stone floor to the heavy wooden door. No birds made a motion towards her. "I think it's safe to come this far."

"You open the door," Draco said easily. "We'll just watch and approve from over here."

She stuck her tongue out at him and cast the spell on the door. Though the lock flared with white light, the handle stubbornly refused to turn. "Looks like we have to figure out a different way," she said.

The others meandered into the room. Theo gazed up at the open space where all the birds fluttered around in a lazy manner. He looked deep in thought.

"There's got to be some sort of connection," he mumbled, scratching his chin. "They wouldn't be here if they didn't have a purpose."

The birds were tiny, rather hard to see. They soared overhead, glittering in the torchlight.

Millie groaned. "Oh by Merlin's robes, it's so obvious! What kind of bird is all sparkly like that? Look closely. They're not birds at all; they're keys! Winged keys!"

They peered up at the birds, straining their eyes. One by one, they each nodded at the truth of Millie's words.

"Well if they've got wings, there's got to be a way to get up there and nab it," Daphne reasoned. She investigated the darker corners. "Ah hah! Broomsticks! We've got to fly up and catch the key to the door."

"Harry can do that easily!" Tracy said enthusiastically.

"Harry's not going to do a bloody thing," Theo said firmly. "You're not going to take any unnecessary risks, you hear me, Harry? You're too important for that. You need to stop You-Know-Who from getting the Stone."

"But I can get that key," Harry protested. He loved to fly, and catching the correct key would be simplicity itself.

"So can I," Draco said, picking up a broomstick. "Hey, a Nimbus Seventeen-hundred, not bad." He mounted and kicked off.

Draco could fly, Harry had no illusions about that. Now that he had a decent quality broomstick under him, he was able to show off some moves that simply weren't possible with the broken-down, school-owned equipment. Draco made quick changes to his course, flying his broom with speed and skill. He would have made an excellent Seeker, Harry thought.

"There's too many of them!" Draco called down to them. "We'll be forever catching and trying them all."

Pansy examined the lock. "Look for a silver key to match the lock, big and old-fashioned, like the keys for Malfoy Manor."

Harry chaffed at not being permitted to go up into the air. He felt at home there, and he knew he would never fall off. He'd managed to stay on a jinxed broom, after all. Could Draco say the same?

The keys were a great protection for the Stone. There were hundreds of them, and they all darted and dived so quickly that catching one was nearly impossible. Once you caught one and it wasn't the right key, you had to let it go to wander back out and mingle with the others.

"I've caught this key already!" Draco shouted angrily. Clearly they needed a new plan.

Harry grabbed the other broom. He mounted and kicked off before anyone could stop him. He was the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things that others could not. He wove through the whirling cloud of glittering rainbow feathers and saw a largish silver key that gave him a good feeling.

"There!" he said, pointing. "That big silver one with the bright blue wings."

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"Good enough for me," Draco said, zooming by. "Now get to ground."

"No way," Harry responded, leaning low over his broom and taking off after Draco.

"Harry, knock it off," Draco called to him as they chased after the key. Through the ceiling beams they flew, left and right, up and down, back and front and all around. The flock of keys started zooming around after the boys, seemingly enchanted to protect the one key.

"No! I can get that key!" Harry suddenly felt the desire to stand out, to prove that he didn't need protection. Here in the air, he was in his element, and nothing could stop him.

They were neck and neck now, both reaching out for the key, which fluttered along in front of them just like a Snitch. Harry flashed back to the times they'd played pick-up games of Quidditch and remembered that Draco had been limited by the inferior broom. He reached out his hand just a little further.

Draco bumped his broom into Harry's. "Sorry!" he called. It probably had been an accident, but that only highlighted the risks that flying encompassed.

Harry didn't answer, but leaned so low that he was practically hugging his broomstick. He stretched his hand just a fraction of an inch further, and managed to hook a finger through the ring of the key.

"Got it!" he shouted happily. He slowed up, and the pursuing flock of keys immediately swarmed him. His broom sank steadily towards the floor. "Gah, geroff, stupid birds."

The instant the key was placed in the lock, the other keys flew off. Once it was turned, and the door unlocked, the key took flight again, looking a little battered and abused now that it had been caught. One of the wings was bent, and it couldn't fly straight anymore.

"Ready?" Harry asked, looking at the unhappy faces of his friends. "What?"

Tracy hugged him. "Harry, that was so reckless!"

"It was something a Gryffindor would do," Pansy said, her voice half-sneering.

"Oh, so now Draco acts like a Gryffindor?" Harry riposted. "Draco, what do you think about that?" He pulled open the door.

"I think that I'm not as important as you are, you git," Draco said, stepping first into the dark chamber beyond the door. "No Dark Lord tried to kill me, so I can take a few risks here and there when we're on our way to confront one of his followers."

As soon as they stepped into the dark chamber, the door slammed shut behind them and torchlight suddenly flooded the room, blinding them, but revealing an astonishing sight.

They stood on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black pieces, which were all taller than they, and carved from onyx. Across the way were the white pieces, spooky and ominous; creepy, for the flickering torchlight revealed that the white chessmen had no faces.

"This is brill," Theo enthused. "I could go for one of these in the backyard."

"Now what?" Millie asked.

"Unless I am wrong, and I am never wrong," Theo said, ignoring Pansy's snort of derision, "we have to play our way across the board. We've got to defeat the opposing army to reach, yes, see that door behind white pieces?"

Draco grimaced. "If only Elan were down here. He'd wipe the board clean in five minutes flat."

"Well he's not here," Daphne said. "That leaves Theo as our resident chesspert."

Theo started. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Harry chimed in. "You taught me a lot about the game. You can do this; I know it."

"I taught you the basics, Harry. Something like this," he gestured, "is liable to be far beyond my poor skill."

"Stop being modest," Pansy told him crossly. "You can do this. Just don't think about it and play it as though it were any other game."

Theo nodded his head slowly. "All right. I'll do it. But how? White moves first, and those pieces aren't going anywhere."

"Join us." The words shocked them, because none of the boys could have produced a voice that deep and powerful. They looked up into the shining eyes of the black king.

"You mean we have to take the place of some of your pieces?" Tracy asked. The black king nodded solemnly.

"Right," Theo said decisively, slipping into his appropriate mindset. "Crabbe and Goyle, go to the corners and replace the rooks. Next to them, Pansy and Millie will be our knights. Draco, Daphne, you two replace the bishops."

"And I get to be the queen?" Tracy inquired perkily.

"Unless Harry wants it," Draco snickered. Harry felt himself blushing.

"No, Harry will be the king. He's the most important piece, and the safest one, as it's taken last." Theo was not really looking at them. He studied the board, probably playing out possible sequences of moves in his head.

"Where will you be?" Harry asked him.

Theo looked directly at Harry, his dark brown eyes very serious. "I'll be standing here. I will be the Chessmaster."

The back row cleared of pieces, and the Slytherins took their places. There was silence for a moment, then the pawn moved to King Four.

Theo's directions were crisp, clear, and blunt. No one argued with him. Chess was not played by committee. He directed the black pieces around the board. The pawns, the only remaining onyx figures, were silent as they obeyed orders.

It was quite a shock when the first piece was taken. Their pawn thrust out with a spear and pierced the white pawn, which dropped its stone sword. Shattered stone chips flew as the piece was destroyed -- just like in real wizard chess. Theo visibly gulped.

He played defensively, as he was keen to protect his friends. He moved the pawns forward, moving significant pieces up each in turn to guard them. He captured opposing pieces with the pawns, regretting each one of his own that was taken, for each loss further exposed his friends to danger. Finally only four pawns were left.

Theo had done well, taking more a quarter of the white pieces. The chessboard was littered with the rubble and dust of the destroyed marble statues. His own pieces were arrayed for defence. He could not press for the white king without losing some of his more valuable pieces. That meant his friends would get hurt, but if he continued to play defensively, he would soon start to lose them anyway.

A drop of sweat rolled down his face. The unseen Chessmaster was good, in fact, brilliant. Every move had a countermove, blocking Theo on everything he tried to do. It was as though the essence of many great Masters had been distilled and imbued in the magic of the board. How could he beat that?

He studied the board intently, taking his time. There was no timeclock in this match. The white pieces were scattered, excepting three protecting the king.

The king was blocked. Theo looked again. The king was still blocked -- trapped, unable to move in three directions. Had he found a weakness? Was that the key? He traced the sequence in his mind. Two moves. It was right there. He stared wild-eyed at the board, sure it was a trap. The opposing Chessmaster was too good for that. It had to be a trick!

But there was nothing presently in position to trap a piece that moved into that region. Only the last white rook could be moved into position to defend the square that Tracy could step into to checkmate the king. His eyes fell on Pansy. She was in perfect position to intercept that rook, and she would be sacrificed. Theo bit his lip. He had to do it. There was no other way to win.

"Knight to King's Knight Four," he said in a small voice. He didn't feel very good about himself right then.

"Theo!" Draco said, startled. "That'll put her right-"

"I know!" Theo burst out. "I know! But she has to do it. It blocks the rook and leaves Tracy free to check the king. It's the only way to win."

Pansy looked very scared. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at the massive, solid rook. "I can see the moves, and he's right. If I'm taken, the game is over." Her voice trembled, but she began walking.

Each step came slower and slower. Only another few steps would carry her into the square, but she did not take them. Her face was green. With a pitiful cry, she collapsed to the board, crying uncontrollably.

"I can't," she wept. "I'm scared! Please don't make me!"

Harry's heart lurched in sympathy. He had been holding his breath practically the whole game, half-sick with fear for his friends, praying that Theo wouldn't make a mistake. He hadn't, but now he had been called to make a difficult decision.

"Pansy!" Harry called to her. He half-took a step.

"No!" Theo shouted. "Don't move! You can't, or we lose even more! Pansy!" She lay on the board, shaking and sobbing. "Pansy, you have to be strong," he told her. "I know you're scared, but this is the only way. When we win, I'll stay. I'll take care of you, but you have to do this."

Each of them was aching to go to her. Nothing could be more difficult than having no one to comfort you. Nothing could be more frightening than being told that you must risk your life.

But her weeping ceased. She lifted her head and looked right at Theo. "You'll stay with me?" she said in a small, scared voice.

"I promise," he told her.

She slowly got to her feet. She stood with her back to the rook and looked at Theo. She took one step backwards into the designated square.

The rook came to life, morphing from a stone tower to a rock monster. It raised one horrible hand and slapped at her. She never saw it coming as she was flung into the air, off the board, and against one of the stone pillars at the side with a sickening sound. Harry winced.

"Quickly," Theo said in a sick voice. "Tracy, run up and stand a square away from the king."

Tracy ran. She set foot inside the square. "Checkmate!" Theo called, running to Pansy's side.

The king's greatsword, which he had been resting his hands on, point down, fell loose and crashed to the board. He reached up and removed his crown, dropping it on the board at Tracy's feet. The game was over. Those who had played rushed to where Pansy lay with a small pool of blood under her head.

"Is she all right?" Daphne asked. "Aside from being bashed into a pillar like that, of course."

"I don't think her head's cracked," Theo said, probing at the back of Pansy's skull. "Gi-normous lump here though. She won't be waking up for a long time, but she'll be happy about that. If she's lucky, she won't wake up until after she's been treated."

Harry brushed away a stray lock of Pansy's hair. "I think she's already been really lucky. She could have been killed."

"I know." Theo's voice was little more than a whisper, "but it had to be done." He set his jaw and looked up at them all. "You need to keep going. I'll stay here."

"Pansy needs Madam Pomfrey," Draco said. He turned to Crabbe. "Get back up into the castle. Go find any teacher except McGonagall and get help. The rest of us are going after the Stone."

Crabbe nodded and opened the door back into the key room. Now that the chessmen had been conquered, the door stayed open. Harry, Draco, Millie, Daphne, Tracy, and Goyle all walked towards the far door. They emerged into another stone corridor, a respite before the next challenge.

A disgusting odor wafted out at them when Harry pushed open the door at the end of this hallway. He tried not to gag. He held his nose and took shallow breaths. Tracy pulled her robes up over her face.

"Eew," she said, retching.

Harry and Draco turned to each other with long expressions.

"You don't think- ?" Draco said, his voice filled with dread.

"I've seen too much tonight to dismiss anything," Harry replied. "Smells just like the one we tangled with on Halloween. I hope there are some columns in that room."

"You three were foolish to go after it in the first place," Tracy told him.

"So Snape told me," Harry said with a grin, "and so Draco objected at the time."

"I object to this as well," Draco said, "but I can't see that we have any other choice."

"Let's get a look."

Harry and Draco peered into the room, trying not to breathe. It was a mountain troll all right, even bigger and uglier than the last one. It, too, carried a huge club. Unfortunately, they did not see any other suitable objects for bashing it on the head.

"What spells do we know that would be useful?" Harry asked.

"We can take his club away like Theo did. Trolls are pretty resistant to direct magic."

"That's only one weapon."

"I think that's all we get."

"So who gets to do it?"

"I will," Tracy said. "I'm the best at the Levitation Charm."

"She is," Harry said.

"Then it's settled," Draco agreed. "How are we going to distract it?"

"I think I can do it from behind the door. It can't get through the door. I wonder how they got it in here in the first place."

"We'll ask Dumbledore later. Good luck."

Tracy put her head to the crack in the door. "Oh my God. You three really _are_ idiots. I know I said so before, and I meant it, but now that I'm actually seeing one for myself, I need to say it again. What on Earth were you _thinking_ last Halloween?"

Harry and Draco looked sheepishly at each other.

"We tried to stop him," Harry said.

"Not hard enough. I can't believe I'm going to do this. The club. Focus on the club. _Wingardium leviosa!_ "

Though they could not see it happen, the meaty thunk of the club hitting the troll's head was very distinct, and the roar of pain hurt their ears. From the sound of things, the first hit hadn't done it.

"You can do it, Tracy," Harry whispered.

"Don't talk," she said tensely, twitching her wand slightly.

"Sorry."

With one last groan of pain, the troll collapsed with a crash that shook the floor beneath them. Tracy exhaled sharply and leaned back against the door frame.

"Well done, Tracy," Draco said. Everyone congratulated her.

"Thanks. That was very difficult. That club is a lot bigger than a feather."

"Size doesn't matter," Harry said. "You did great."

"Let's move."

When they had moved on and firmly shut the door behind them in the smell-free room beyond, they thankfully took a great many breaths of fresh air. The room they were presently in contained nothing very frightening at all. There was only a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"This would be Professor Snape's challenge," Draco said.

When they had all moved away from the door, a purple fire burst into life in the doorway, making them jump. In that same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

"Definitely Professor Snape's," Daphne observed dryly.

"Here's a clue," Millie said, picking up a roll of parchment lying next to the bottles. She read it aloud:

 

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide  
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;  
Second, different are those who stand at either end,  
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;  
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,  
Neither dwarf nor giant hold death in their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right  
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

 

As she read, Millie's face fell more and more. She was clearly overwhelmed by the puzzle, just as Harry was. This was tricky business. One wrong move and they'd be dead. Despite their dismay, Daphne was smiling.

"This is brilliant. I'd expect no less from Professor Snape," she said admiringly.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked her.

"It's not magic," she said. "Not proper magic at all. It's a logic puzzle. It involves critical thinking."

"And wizards don't exactly behave logically, is that what you're saying?" Harry asked.

She nodded. "As purebloods, we're rather immune to the fact that magic is not completely logical. In fact, more than half of it is rather illogical. This sort of puzzle would trip up most fully-trained wizards."

"And also us," Draco pointed out.

"Not at all," Daphne scoffed. "Use your brain. All the information we need is right here on the paper. There are seven bottles. Three contain poison; two hold wine; one will let us go forward; the last will let us go back.

"So which is which?" Goyle asked.

"Well, since the poison is always on the wine's left, the first bottle has to be poison," she said.

"Huh?" Draco questioned.

"The parchment says that the bottle on either end are not our friends to move forward. These two here," she pointed, "are the same, wine. The fourth and fifth bottles here are poison, both on the wine's left side, note, and the potion to go back is in the one on the right. That leaves the small bottle, number three, to help us go forward."

Harry picked up the bottle. It was nearly full, but there still wasn't much. "I think me and maybe two others."

He looked at his friends. Each of them had risked a lot to stand here with him.

"You don't have to come," he said, giving it one last try.

"Bollocks," Draco said. "Would you leave me here?"

"No."

"Then I'm not leaving you." Draco looked at the others. "Who's coming with us?"

Goyle cleared his throat. "You'll need someone clever if there are any more puzzles. I should go back."

"Thanks for coming this far," Harry said sincerely.

"Sure, Harry."

Tracy, Millie, and Daphne looked at each other.

"You figured out the riddle," Millie said to Daphne.

"Tracy beat the troll."

"Millie-" Tracy said and stopped short. "Oh Millie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"No, you're right," Millie said heavily. "I've been pretty useless. I couldn't figure any of these challenges out. Why should I be able to beat any others? I'll go back as well."

"Millie, thank you for coming with me."

"Sorry, Harry. I wish I could see you through."

"Which leaves one last choice."

"You've both been useful," Draco said.

"That's polite," Daphne said.

"Well you have been."

"How do we decide?"

"Hey, I've got an idea," Goyle said. "Let's just drink all of the potion to go forward. Then even if someone comes along behind us to get the Stone, they won't be able to get through."

"Would that even work?" Daphne asked. "It couldn't possibly be that simple."

"We can't chance it," Harry reasoned. "We don't know that someone didn't get past the troll without knocking it out. If the potion refills itself after we go through, come on through. Otherwise, get back to Theo and Pansy.

"We'll draw straws," Tracy said briskly. "Harry, would you hold them?"

Tracy drew the short straw.

"Aww," Daphne said with disappointment. "Good luck, though."

Goyle clasped Harry's hand in an iron grip. Millie looked at him for a long second before she also hugged him. When Daphne's turn came, she squeezed his ribs briefly and tousled his hair.

"Be careful, ok?" she said. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "For luck."

Harry looked at Draco and Tracy, his final companions on this adventure. He hoped their company wouldn't be further reduced.

"Thanks, you two. Let's be careful."

"Always," Draco said. "Shall we?"

Harry took a deep breath and uncorked the bottle. "Here goes nothing," he said, and drank as small a sip as he could.

It was as though ice were flooding his body. This is what Snape had meant about "the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins." He handed the bottle to Draco and stepped forward into the flames. Though he braced himself, he could feel nothing.

Harry saw nothing but black flames. It was rather like he imagined stepping into a black hole might feel. Complete, baffling, disorienting darkness engulfed him. There was suddenly no stone floor beneath his feet. He couldn't feel the walls around him.

He panicked briefly, but he forced himself to relax. It was just like Professor Snape to throw a nasty trick into his test. It was only the magic. Harry felt a warm reassurance spread out from his stomach, erasing the icy chill of the potion he had swallowed. He let his body continue on, though he could not feel it. Then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.

Harry looked around, taking in the rich, finished marble. The room didn't look so much assembled as carved from the very rock of the Earth. Torches flamed to life, illuminating a great empty room with one very familiar object in it: The Mirror of Erised.

Draco stepped through the flames and blinked several times. "That was distinctly unpleasant," he said.

"Tell me about it."

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Dumbledore said it was being moved somewhere new."

"This is pretty new."

Tracy staggered into view. Harry caught her before she fell.

"Steady now."

"I never want to go through that again. Where are we?"

"Remember that Mirror we told you about over Christmas?"

"Is that it?"

"Yes."

"It shows you the deepest desire of your heart?"

"Yes."

"I want to have a look."

"Tracy, we don't have time."

"It'll only take a second. I'm curious."

"No. It's no good to dwell on dreams."

She moved around him and stood in front of the Mirror.

"Tracy, don't! We've got to figure out where the Stone is."

"The Stone," she murmured. "Of course. Where is it?"

"Tracy, what are you doing?"

"Show it to me, Mirror. Show me the Philosopher's Stone. I want it."

Tracy stared into the Mirror, her hands bent into claws at her sides. Her face was nearly unrecognizable. The twisted look of greed didn't seem like his friend at all.

" _Petrificus totalis! Stupefy!_ "

Draco and Tracy fell to the floor as jets of light struck them. Harry whipped around with his wand pointed and received a shock.

It was Professor Quirrell.

"You!" Harry said with loathing.

Quirrell smiled at him. It was an evil smile, and the man wasn't twitching at all. Something was definitely very wrong here.

"Me," he said evenly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

"I knew it was you," Harry said with an edge in his voice.

"You always were clever, Potter," Quirrell laughed again. It was not his normal, high-pitched, nervous, treble laugh, either, but was cold and sharp. "You earned the top marks I gave you in Defence."

Harry noted that remark with cool pleasure, but didn't let himself be distracted. "You've been behind all the strange things this year, haven't you?" he said. 

"I have. Despite my best plans, you managed to survive. You have the most damnable luck, Potter." Quirrell's face grew stony. "But it ends tonight!" He snapped his fingers.

Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry, pinning his arms to his sides. His ankles snapped together, likewise bound. Harry wavered and nearly fell, biting back a foul word he'd learned from Theo. He hadn't been fast enough, and he'd dropped his wand.

"You know entirely too much to be allowed to live, Potter. I shall dispose of you in a moment. Be silent while I examine this mirror."

Harry stayed quiet as Quirrell turned his back. "This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," he muttered, tapping his foot impatiently. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something ingenious. He's in London, but he'll be back soon. Too late, too late..."

Harry strained to reach his wand. If he could touch it to the ropes, he ought to be able to break them. -- There! He felt the ropes around his arms loosen.

"I see the Stone," Quirrell said, staring hungrily into the mirror. "I am presenting it to my master." His lips twisted in an angry snarl. "But how do I get it?"

Harry bent down and touched his wand to the rope around his ankles, which sprang loose immediately. What in the world was he going to do?

"Master, I don't know what to do," Quirrell was muttering. "I don't understand. Should I break the mirror? Is the Stone inside? Master, help me." Strange as it might seem, Quirrell appeared to be expecting an answer.

"Is- is your master here?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

Quirrell stopped pacing. "He is here," the wizard said quietly. A spasm of fear flitted across his face, reflected in the mirror. "He is with me wherever I go. I met him when I traveled the world. I was a foolish young man then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil but only power, and those too weak to seek it. Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have disappointed him many times." Quirrell shuddered. "He does not tolerate failure lightly. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. My punishment was that he would keep a closer watch upon me."

Harry's mind was flashing back to the day in Diagon Alley. He had seen Quirrell that day, had even shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Master, I cannot solve this puzzle. I need your help."

To Harry's sudden horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Ussse the boy... Ussse the boy..." It was a low, dry voice, dusty like a snake's hiss. Harry couldn't imagine what human throat could make such a tone.

Quirrell rounded on Potter. "Come here, boy!"

Harry ached to raise his wand. If he could cast some spells and incapacitate Quirrell, then he could find the Stone. Locomis toner, he thought. No, that wasn't right. His head was throbbing; he couldn't think of any suitable spell. He stumbled towards the Mirror.

_How does this final trick work? The Mirror has to be the key. It shows you whatever you desire most deeply in your heart. Okay, what I want more than anything else in the world at this moment is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. If I look in the Mirror now, I should see myself finding it. I can see where it was hidden. I'll just lie to him; make something up_

Quirrell stood behind him, watching him like an avenging hawk. Harry gagged on the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He cleared his mind of all but his desire to keep the Stone away from Quirrell.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. A moment later though, his reflection grinned at him. The mirror-Harry reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a blood-red rock. He winked and slipped the Stone back in his pocket, and as he did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. He suppressed a gasp. Somehow -- incredibly -- he'd gotten the Philosopher's Stone!

"What do you see, boy?" Quirrell demanded impatiently.

Harry's mind was reeling. "Incredible," he breathed, putting all of his very real astonishment into the word. "Slytherin has won the House Cup. That's not incredible, of course, but we've won the Quidditch Cup too. I know that's not incredible either, but I- I'm Captain of the team!"

Quirrell cursed at him. "Step aside, you useless boy," he growled, shoving Harry out of the way.

Harry stepped back, wondering if he dared to make a break for it. He could leave Quirrell down here struggling with the Mirror for hours. The Stone was heavy against his leg, but before he had taken two steps, the strange voice spoke again. "He liesss... He liesss..."

"Potter!" Quirrell shouted. "Come back here! Tell me the truth! What did you see?"

Harry ran for the door. Just as he thought he was going to make it, scorching flames roared up in the doorway. He fell back, cringing away from the heat.

The voice spoke again. "Let me ssspeak to him, face-to-face."

Quirrell's own face became solemn. "Master, you are not strong enough."

"I have ssstrength enough for thisss..."

Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Terrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The purple cloth fell away, revealing Quirrell's bare head, which looked strangely small now. Then Quirrell turned around.

Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been the back of Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake. It was a horrible face, one that Harry had seen in his nightmares.

"Harry Potter," the lipless mouth whispered.

Harry was trapped, pinned between the wall of flame and his own terror. His scar was on fire. His head felt like it would split open and spill his brains out. He had to fight back the urge to vomit.

"Sssee what I have become?" the face said. "Mere ssshadow and vapour, that isss all I am. I have form only when I can ssshare the body of another. Unicorn blood can ssstrengthen me, as you sssaw in the forest, but the Elixir of Life can ressstore my powers, and I will create a new body for myself. I grow tired of waiting, Harry Potter, ssso why not give me the Ssstone?"

"Master, he does not have the Stone!" Quirrell protested.

"Oh yesss," Voldemort hissed. "He hasss the Ssstone. Asssk him. Asssk him what he hasss in his pocket!"

So he knew. Harry raised his wand, determined to make a good accounting of himself.

"Don't be a fool, boy" snarled Voldemort. "Sssave your own life. Give me the Ssstone and join me."

"NO!" Harry shouted.

"Join me, or you will meet the sssame fate as your parentsss. They died begging me for mercy."

"LIAR!" Harry screamed.

Quirrell was walking backwards at him, so Voldemort could see Harry. The evil face was still smiling at him, chilling Harry to the core.

"How brave," it hissed. "I alwaysss admire bravery. Your parentsss were very brave, yesss? Your father died firssst, but he challenged me like a fool. He put up a courageousss fight, the sssame as your mother. Ssshe died for you. Give me the Ssstone, or she will have died in vain."

"NEVER!" Harry didn't know what spell he cast, but the jet of blue light was deflected away by some sort of shield.

"Seize him!" Voldemort screamed. Quirrell whirled around and clamped his hand down on Harry's wrist. At once, pain seared across Harry's scar, and his head felt as if it were splitting in two again.

Harry yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened. He looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers, which were blistering before his eyes.

"The burning!" Quirrell cried.

"Seize him!" Voldemort shrieked again. Quirrell dove at Harry, landing on top of him, and he wrapped his hands around Harry's throat. The pain from Harry's scar was nearly blinding him, yet he could see and hear Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot touch him! It burns me so!"

And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the floor with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his hands as they blistered and smoked. Harry could see the flesh looked burned and raw.

"Then kill him!" shrieked Voldemort. "Kill him and take the Stone!"

Quirrell raised his hands to perform some deadly magic, but Harry lunged up and clapped his own hands to Quirrell's face.

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell scrambled to get away from him, his face blistering just like his hands. Then Harry figured it out: Quirrell couldn't bear the touch of his bare skin. Harry could use that against him.

Harry managed to get his feet under him and sprang at Quirrell, falling on top of him down to the floor. He had to keep the Dark wizard in enough pain that he couldn't cast a deadly spell. He grabbed for Quirrell's face.

Quirrell was screaming in agony. Voldemort was screeching for Quirrell to kill Harry. Harry was nearly going mad from the pain in his scar. He felt himself blacking out and latched onto Quirrell as hard as he could. Nonetheless, he was slipping down into blackness. Down, down, down...


	19. Questions and Answers

When Harry returned to consciousness, he was a bit disoriented. Then everything came back to him in a rush. He sat up hurriedly and instantly regretted it as his head began to throb. Wincing, he sank back down on the white linen sheets.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore said in a friendly tone.

"Hello, sir. Is everything all right? Professor Quirrell was after the Philosopher's Stone, and we tried to get there first, but he caught us, and-"

"Calm yourself, Harry. All is well. I assure you. Let me catch you up, hmm?"

"You're sure everything is okay? Pansy?"

"Miss Parkinson is quite all right. She woke up with nothing more than a nasty headache here in the hospital wing. She is quite recovered, I assure you."

"How long have I been here?"

"Three days," Dumbledore answered him. "Your friends have been most worried about you. They and your admirers sent many tokens of esteem."

Harry noticed for the first time the flowers, pot plants, balloons, and boxes of candy.

"What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind the half-moon spectacles. "So, naturally the entire school knows."

"I assume Draco told you our side of things?"

"He did. Being under the Full-Body Bind, he was also able to hear the entire conversation between yourself and Voldemort."

"What happened, sir? I was wrestling with Quirrell, and his skin was dissolving wherever I touched him."

"That is what did him in. Though he had managed to subdue you, his body was too badly damaged for him to survive. When he saw that he could no longer win, Voldemort's spirit fled. Without a body to make the Elixir, the Stone was as useless to him as food."

"Where is the Stone now?"

"The Stone is destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Harry said blankly. "But your friend Flamel, he-"

"Ah, you know about Nicholas, do you?" Dumbledore said, sounding pleased. "I say, you did do this thing properly, didn't you? Nicholas and I have had a little chat, and we agreed it's all for the best."

"But he'll die, won't he?"

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "He has sufficient Elixir to last until he has set his affairs in order, but yes, very soon he will die."

"I- I'm sorry, sir." And he was. Flamel was a great wizard, and his death would be a great loss to the world.

"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems quite incredible, but to Nicholas and his wife Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was not really such a wonderful thing as all that. Yes, it gives limitless wealth and endless life, but in acquiring the skills and knowledge to make such a substance, one rises above such petty wants and desires. They are the two things that most human beings would choose above all, yet these are precisely the worst sort of thing for them."

Dumbledore went silent, and Harry tried to wrap his brain around everything. Dumbledore hummed a little ditty and looked up at the ceiling, giving Harry time to think.

"Sir?" Harry asked after a time. "Even if the Stone is gone, he is still out there."

"He, Harry?" Dumbledore asked him pointedly. "Say his proper name. A fear of a mere name only increases a fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Voldemort, he's going to try other ways to come back, isn't he?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid he will. He is still out there somewhere, most likely looking for another body to share. He left Quirrell to die, for he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies.

"Nevertheless, Harry, while you may have only delayed his return power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight a losing battle next time, and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know. I'd like to know the truth."

"The truth," Dumbledore sighed. "The truth, Harry, is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. I shall answer your questions as best I am able, unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I must beg your forgiveness. I shall not, of course, lie to you."

"That's fair enough," Harry agreed. "Voldemort said that he killed my parents because they stood up to him, stood in his way. If they had stood aside and let him kill me, they would have lived. What I don't understand is why he wanted to kill me in the first place."

Dumbledore sighed again, very deeply this time. "Alas, the first thing you ask of me, I cannot tell you. Not today, not now. I must ask you to put the question from your mind. I will tell you one day, Harry, when you are older. It is a horrible thing to say, but I do not believe you are ready now. When you are, you will know."

Harry knew it would be no good to argue. He lay back on the pillow. "I'm very tired, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm sure you are. I've taken the liberty of anticipating some of your questions and have written you a short letter." He placed a folded bit of parchment on the table. "Ah, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavoured one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them."

He held up a pale green candy. "However, I think I should be safe enough with a nice mint, don't you?" He popped it into his mouth. "Alas," he said, still chewing. "Pickle relish."

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was a nice woman, but she was very strict. Harry pleaded with her for an hour before she finally relented and gave permission for his friends to visit. Even so, she restricted them to coming in one at a time, and then only for five minutes.

"Harry!" Draco exclaimed as he rushed in the door.

"Hello, Draco," Harry smiled. "All right?"

"We've been so worried about you," Draco told him. "Pansy's eating everything in sight that Crabbe and Goyle haven't got to first; Tracy has _stopped_ eating; Millie can't sleep at night."

"I'm fine," Harry assured him. "Just a bump on the head. I've had worse. I should be up and around soon."

"Just in time for the end-of-year feast tomorrow," Draco said gleefully. "The points are all in, and we flattened the other Houses. Gryffindor got smashed in their match against Ravenclaw."

"Good." Harry was delighted that his House had taken both Cups once again this year and proud that he had been a part of their victories.

"How about you?"

"Quirrell only put me in the Bind. I feel bad for Tracy who got knocked out and missed the whole thing."

"Wasn't it scary just laying there?"

"More than you can believe. I nearly pissed myself when I heard You-Know-Who start talking. Don't tell anyone."

"I wouldn't blame you if you had. I might have if I hadn't gone before we started out."

"We got really lucky," Draco said after a momentary silence.

"Yeah. It was pretty stupid to run off half-cocked. I hope Snape isn't mad."

"We won."

"I don't think that'll matter to him."

Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to come bustling over. "All right, Mister Malfoy, that's been five minutes. The others are starting to froth at the mouth a bit. Get you gone."

Draco squeezed Harry's shoulder and got to his feet. Under Madam Pomfrey's stern gaze, he slouched out the door.

"Harry!" Tracy squealed as she flew to his side. She hugged him as best she could, her sudden weight driving the air from his lungs. Blonde hair covered his glasses and the smell of Tracy's shampoo was in his nose. Harry felt her lips mushed into his cheek. Then she sat up and latched onto his hand.

Harry steadfastly refused to give any of his friends the story. Draco could tell it just as well as he. The remainder of the visits were very low-key. Mostly they made small talk; sometimes they just sat with him.

After his visits, Harry felt tired indeed. He was just thinking he should take off his glasses when he fell asleep. His head tipped to the side, and the unruly black hair fell away from the scar on his forehead.

Madam Pomfrey gently removed his glasses and folded them on the table. She pulled the blanket up and tucked it under Harry's chin. "Rest easy, Mister Potter," she whispered.

* * *

After a good night's sleep, Harry felt almost himself again. He was awake bright and early in the morning when Madam Pomfrey came around to do bed checks, but had his hopes of being able to return to the dungeons dashed.

"Certainly not," she huffed. "You're to stay here all today for observation."

Harry was dreadfully bored for most of the day. He couldn't keep his attention on a book, and there were only so many times he could count the cracks in the ceiling (twenty-two). He was desperate for some sort of distraction when Madam Pomfrey bustled over and told him he had a visitor.

"Who is it?" he asked curiously. She placed the back of her hand against his forehead.

"You're not too busy to see me, I hope, Mister Potter," came a smooth baritone voice from the doorway.

"Professor!" said Harry, delighted at this development.

"How are you feeling, Mister Potter?" Snape asked, taking a seat by the bed.

"I'm bored, sir," Harry admitted. "I'd really like to leave."

Snape shook his head slightly. "I'm afraid you won't be leaving until Madam Pomfrey gives her say-so."

Harry sighed. He felt perfectly all right and just wanted to move about freely. He wanted to see his friends and relax in the Slytherin common room.

"What you did was highly risky, Mister Potter," Snape said in a lightly reproving tone.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. He looked up at his Head of House seriously. "But not doing anything would have been riskier."

Snape nodded. "Indeed, it would have been. What I'd like to know is why you didn't tell one of your prefects -- why you didn't tell me."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. This was likely to be embarrassing. Haltingly, in half-sentences, he eventually gave Snape the whole story of everything that had gone on during the whole school year. He told about how the young Slytherins had suspected their Head. He told about how he had discovered the Mirror of Erised. He left nothing out.

When Harry had been silent for a few moments, Professor Snape leaned back in his chair. Tiredly, he rubbed at his eyes. "I don't know what to say, Mister Potter," he said. "You've certainly been up to no end of trouble this year."

Harry flushed slightly. "Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"But in the course of your adventures, the whole lot of you have displayed every exemplary trait of Slytherin House. I'm very proud of you all." Snape's voice was still low. Harry almost imagined he heard a slight catch in it.

"Thank you, sir."

"Though it's rather a paltry reward for some truly phenominal actions," Snape continued, "I'm awarding each of you five points. It should be many more, but Slytherin has already secured the House Cup this year."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, repeating himself. Points had been the last thing on his mind while down in the hidden chambers. "What time is the end-of-year feast, Professor?" he asked to change the subject.

"Around teatime," Snape answered.

"I'll be allowed do go, won't I?" Harry asked anxiously.

Snape smiled. "I'm sure that not even Madam Pomfrey would forbid you from spending some leisure time with your friends. Still, you will have to ask her."

"I can go to the feast, right?" he asked Madam Pomfrey as she came by to straighten up his bedside table.

"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," she said sniffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be.

"There, you see, Mister Potter? All is well. I shall see you there." Professor Snape rose to his feet.

"Good-bye, sir."

Madam Pomfrey continued to fuss over him, and Harry put up with about half of her last minute final checkup. Finally the clock read five to, and he pushed her hands away.

"I'm going to be late," he said, adjusting his robes. He ignored her cross look and ducked out of the hospital wing. Trying not to run, he walked as quickly as he could down to the Great Hall where the first year Slytherins were standing outside the doors.

"You're late," Draco drawled at him.

"Draco!" Daphne admonished him.

"I'm lucky to be here this early," Harry told his friends. "Madam Pomfrey wanted to do all kinds of last minute checks. She's convinced the feast is going to be dangerous in some nefarious way."

"Nefarious?" Tracy giggled, poking him in the side.

"You be quiet," he teased her back.

"Can we go eat now?" Crabbe asked.

"You shut up too, fathead," Draco said.

"Don't tell him to shut up," Millie said, grabbing Draco by the arm and yanking him towards the door. "I'm famished too."

The doors opened and the nine students were bathed in a glow of light. The Great Hall was completely decked out in the Slytherin colours of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning of the House Cup, which was displayed at one end of the Slytherin table with the prefects. The Quidditch Cup was on display at the other end with the Quidditch team. A huge serpent banner covered the wall behind the High Table.

The dull roar in the Hall hushed suddenly, and then after a couple of uncomfortable moments, Harry raised his chin and marched over to sit down with the team. The others took the seats that had purposely been left empty nearby.

Dumbledore and the other Professors arrived moments later. The babble that had gradually resumed died away. As the Professors took their seats, the Headmaster remained standing.

"Another year gone!" he said cheerfully. "And now I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we tuck into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were. You have the whole summer to get them nice and empty before next year starts.

"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup needs official presenting. The final points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred seventy points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred eighty-three points; in second, Ravenclaw, with four hundred twenty and Slytherin, five hundred three."

A storm of cheering broke out across the Slytherin table, Harry cheering as loud as the rest. Flint raised up the Quidditch Cup in both hands and waved it around. Bole and Derrick started a chant of "Sly-Ther-In!"

The cheering took some time to die down. Harry could see Professor Snape looking very eerie, wearing what appeared to be a smile. He looked over at Harry, as if he knew he was being watched, and nodded slightly as if to say, 'Well done.'

"Congratulations, Slytherin," Dumbledore said at last. "And now, let us feast!"

Harry set to the food with a ravenous appetite. He would have liked to avoid questions about what had happened down in the dungeons entirely, but his teammates were eager to hear about the test with the keys. He stayed away from the subject of Quirrell and anything having to do with Voldemort. After awhile the topic changed, and he began to actively participate in the conversation.

By Merlin, he loved life at Hogwarts. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving. He wrenched his thoughts away from that inevitability. Time enough to brood about it later.

Harry knew that he would remember the feast for the rest of his life. He would not forget the feeling he'd gotten when one of the sixth year girls, Heather Duke, brought out a camera to take pictures of the Quidditch team together with the prefects and both Cups. Pictures of all kinds were taken, at both the feast and the after-feast which happened back in the Slytherin common room.

The after-feast involved loud music, lots of sweets, and plenty of silliness on behalf of everyone. Elan assured him that this was typical of the end-of-year celebration when the House had taken both Cups. "Or just one of the Cups," he added reflectively. "Or any time we're not under the stress of school. You'll find out about those parties when you're older."

"Why just for the older kids? We've got stress too," Theo objected.

"It involves alcohol," Pansy said in an exaggerated tone.

Harry didn't know what time he went to bed, but the sun was starting to rise over the lake when he finally shut his curtains. He was out cold in half a heartbeat.

* * *

Exam results came the next day at breakfast, and Harry opened his as eagerly as everyone else. To his extreme satisfaction, he passed with excellent marks all around. Harry's best mark was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Quirrell hadn't been lying when he commented about Harry's mark, which was the highest of all the first years. His second-best mark was in Potions. Harry knew he'd earned it all.

The morning was spent comparing marks with everyone else. Theo and Tracy had done the best of the first year Slytherins. In fact, only Terry Boot of Ravenclaw and Hermione Granger of Hufflepuff had scored higher marks in the rest of their form, the latter making both Draco and Theo furious. Even Crabbe and Goyle had managed to pass everything and earn at least one high mark.

After lunch, Harry went up to the High Table to speak with the Headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore? Could I have a moment of your time, please?"

"Certainly, Harry. Shall we go up to my office?"

"Any room will do."

"Of course."

Dumbledore led him out of the Great Hall and to the room the first years had waited in before the Sorting Ceremony.

"What is on your mind, Harry?"

"Thank you for telling Madam Pomfrey to let me come to the feast."

"I would hate for you to have missed out on the chance to celebrate winning both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup."

"Yes, sir. I also wanted to ask you if it would be possible for me to go home with the Malfoys. They've invited me to stay the whole summer."

"You don't wish to go home?"

"Not on your life. The Dursleys will be just as glad to be rid of me."

"I'm sure that's not true, Harry. You're their nephew."

Harry really didn't want to start telling the old man just how the Dursleys treated him and ruin all the good cheer he had from the feast and his high marks.

"Whatever. May I go?"

"I'm afraid I have no say over the matter, Harry. I am only your teacher. During the summer holiday, such a matter is to be decided by your guardians. The Dursleys have not given any such permission, so I must say no."

"It's not fair!" Harry struggled to keep his temper under control. "Why should Muggles be able to tell a wizard where he can or can't go?"

Dumbledore looked at him for a long time. "I'm sorry, Harry. I really am."

"May I go, sir?"

"Yes. Have a good holiday."

"Too late for that."

In the few short hours they had remaining, wardrobes were emptied, trunks were packed, and notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays.

The next morning after an early breakfast, they all piled into horseless carriages for a bumpy ride down to Hogsmeade Station. Chaos ensued as they all boarded the Hogwarts Express, loaded their trunks into compartments, and took their seats. The Slytherin first years took two compartments and loaded all the luggage in one, fitting themselves in the other. It was a bit cramped, but none of them wanted to be separated until it was absolutely necessary.

They talked of everything and nothing as the countryside passed, growing greener and tidier with each passing kilometre. Eventually they changed out of their school robes and into regular clothing. Harry still blushed when the girls began to undress and went into the other compartment by himself.

All too soon, they were pulling into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross Station. It took quite awhile for them all to unload their trunks, stack up the carts, and get off the platform. Harry wasn't looking forward to going back through the barrier and meeting the Dursleys.

"Draco!" It was Mrs. Malfoy, waving as she started towards them.

"I can't believe you're stuck going back with the Muggles," Draco said, sounding upset. "You'd have loads more fun staying at Malfoy Manor this summer."

"Harry," Mr. Malfoy said, shaking Harry's hand firmly. "It's a pleasure to see you again." Draco's father was as distinguished as ever. He still carried his black and silver cane.

"Thank you, sir," Harry answered. "Thank you for the Christmas present."

"I received your note, dear, very thoughtful," Mrs. Malfoy said to him. "Some people could take an example from you."

"Um, yeah, thanks for the crystal, Mum," Elan said, flushing.

"What did you name him?" Mr. Malfoy asked Harry of his owl.

"Regal, sir," Harry replied. He'd thought for quite awhile before deciding on that name.

"An eminently suitable name," Mr. Malfoy noted with a smile. "Take good care of him."

"I will," Harry promised.

As they stepped through the barrier, they came face to face with the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still moustached, looked absolutely furious at the nerve of Harry carrying a caged owl in a station full of ordinary people.

"Harry, these are your relations?" Mr. Malfoy said icily. He was staring directly at Vernon, his eyes cold and hard as agates. He was clearly speaking directly to Vernon in the third person.

"In a manner of speaking," Uncle Vernon said gruffly, sounding highly offended that this wizard was even looking at him. Behind him, Aunt Petunia stood with Dudley, who was looking terrified at the sight of the Malfoys. "Hurry up, boy, I haven't got all day." He turned and walked away, his family following.

"Friendly much, that lot?" Elan said coolly. "More of that sort," he sneered. "Harry, I'm sorry we couldn't get you permission to come to the Manor."

"I'm still working on it, Harry," Mr. Malfoy said smoothly. "It can be absolute murder at the Ministry sometimes; piles of paperwork and red tape."

"As soon as possible, please," Harry reiterated, making sure his cart was secure. "I'll write."

"Bye, Harry!" Elan waved at him.

"I'll see you real soon," Draco told him. Harry nodded. They shook hands. Then Harry turned and pushed his trolley after the Muggles.

Finé


End file.
